


Building a Portfolio

by keepitmythy



Series: Unqualified Heroes [6]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: (just getting that tag out there in advance sorry), Gen, Good Guy Quentin Beck, Unhappy Ending, all Hawkeyes love drama, and thus the protectors expands its members
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-08-20 03:30:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20221075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keepitmythy/pseuds/keepitmythy
Summary: High-tech weapons are hitting the streets of New York City. So is a new vigilante whose methods seem suspiciously familiar, but Clint claims he has no idea what's going on. As Beck and Peter work the case, they may find new allies and old enemies are coming out of the woodwork (some enemies older than others).





	1. The Story of Tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus comic-only characters start to make their entrance into this universe. I'm so damn excited that Kate Bishop is going to be in the Hawkeye Disney+ show (also excited that there's going to be a Hawkeye Disney+ show, like, in general).
> 
> Fair warning: this story does not have a happy ending. Things will not be 100% resolved from this until the end of the next major story in the series. Unhappy Ending is in the tags for a reason. Everything is going to be ok eventually, but there's a lot of pain to come first.

Things were good. It was a warm August evening, and the Protectors were on patrol again.

No, really. Things were going well for Peter Parker and Co. Peter breathed in deeply as he swung from building to building. Even the slightly metallic tang mixed with otherwise clean air was good – Shuri had finally gotten the filter in the mask to work. She said it was to help deal with any biohazards that Peter might encounter as Spider-Man, but Peter appreciated its more mundane use of filtering out the normal volatile mix of smells that one would encounter in a city like New York.

Before the bite, he had put up with it like everyone else. Afterwards… Well, all his senses were dialed up to eleven, after all.

Peter glanced down the cross street as he swung through the intersection, catching a brief glimpse of Beck as he flew along a few streets down. The guy seemed to be doing ok after the incident in Wakanda, and after their conversation under the stars, which left Peter relieved. If he had to guess, he’d say that there was a lot more going on in Beck’s head at any one time than he said, but at the moment, Peter wasn’t worried about his stability on an emotional or magical level, which is more than he could have said for a significant amount of time after they first met.

“EDITH is picking up a disturbance a few blocks away. Looks like someone’s trying to hold up a convenience store.” Ned’s voice came over Peter’s comms as his HUD lit up to show him the way to the scene of the crime. “Cashier pressed their panic button, you two probably have about ten minutes before the cops show up.”

“On it.” Peter corrected course, seeing Beck do the same as they both started heading in the right direction. “Beck, your turn to call it. What’s the strategy?”

There was a slight pause as Beck considered, and his tone of voice didn’t make it hard for Peter to imagine a shit eating grin hidden behind the mist. “Play innocent?”

“Play innocent it is.”

-

When Samantha Brown (Sam to her friends) had taken the job two weeks ago at Clyde’s Corner Market, she had been very briefly trained what to do in the event of a robbery. Press the button under the counter. Give the person the cash in the register. Don’t do anything stupid.

Obviously she hadn’t expected to have to use that knowledge. What kind of person would genuinely expect to have a gun waved in their face by someone who was very clearly desperate and willing to do just about anything to get cash.

Desperate, and apparently a decent shot. The first thing the guy in the black mask had done as he strode into the store was to shoot out the security cameras, even the one hidden behind the cheesy Spider-Man poster on the back wall. And then he hadn’t asked for money right away. He had strode into the back of the store, popped the top on an energy drink, and walked right back up to the counter like he owned the place.

Then, very amiably (or as amiably as one could be while pointing a gun at someone) had said, “The cash in the register, a pack of cigarettes, and this candy bar, if you wouldn’t mind, dearie.” The mask hid almost all of his features, but Sam could see the glint of something almost like amusement in those green eyes as he stared at her.

“Uh, I have to get the cash register key out of the office.” Sam gestured to the door behind her, shuffling slightly backwards before a shot that whizzed past her ear stopped her in her tracks. That was no ordinary gun, she realized. That scorch mark on the wall… That was a laser pistol of some sort.

No wonder this criminal was so cocky. He thought he was well armed enough to take out anything that was coming after him. Tilting his head slightly, the man pulled a crumpled five-dollar bill from his pocket and slid it across the counter. “And change for a five, if you wouldn’t mind. Come on now, I haven’t got all night.”

Sam swallowed hard, carefully putting the items the man had requested into a bag and slowly punched in the numbers to open the cash register. Come on Spider-Man. Come on police. Someone. Please.

There was a quiet chime as the bell signaling the door to the shop had been opened went off. Sam looked up in hope, the criminal looked over, tensed and ready for a fight.

And it was just a guy. Sam looked him over quickly before sighing, knowing another civilian just got dragged into the mess. He looked like nothing more than a normal guy: Mets hat on his head, bit of a beard, green polo shirt and khakis. The only out of place thing in his entire ensemble that would otherwise scream “really, just an average guy” was a pair of heavy black boots, the type her girlfriend would call “shitkickers” with an approving nod.

He looked in at the current standoff, gesturing towards the coolers in the back of the store. “Hey, I’m just here to buy some milk. Don’t let me get in your way. I mean, obviously crime doesn’t pay and all that so you might want to rethink your lifestyle choices, but-”

Another blaster bolt that whizzed past his head shut him up. “Sit down in that corner and shut up.” The criminal gestured towards the corner next to the desk that Sam was all but cowering behind at this point. “Don’t make this messier than it needs to be.”

The man slowly started making his way across the room, hands up, but Sam could have sworn he winked at her. There was something oddly familiar about him now that he was closer, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. “Really, there’s no need for violence. I’m sure Spider-Man or the police or someone will come along soon enough and then where will you be?”

“Oh, I’m counting on it.” The criminal patted the side of the gun. “There’s quite a bounty out on the Spider’s head. I’m just doing a job, collecting it.” He took a long swig from the energy drink. “So sit down and stay out of the way and you won’t get hurt.”

“I’m not the one getting hurt tonight, trust me. Last chance.” Sam watched as the man carefully pulled the hat off his head, placing it down on the counter. “I’d suggest you get down behind there, ma’am. Things are about to get a little messy.”

The criminal rolled his eyes. “A pity. I didn’t want to have to kill anyone extra tonight.”

Sam let out a short scream as the gun went off, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, waiting for the body to fall. When no thud followed, she allowed herself a quick peek between her fingers.

The criminal still stood, gun extended towards the other man, who was now standing completely upright, hands extended in front of him. In front of his hands, between him and the criminal, floated a glowing golden shield covered in intricate, arcane designs.

And Sam knew where she knew the man from. Still hiding behind the counter, she carefully pulled out her phone and started filming. This would look amazing on her Instagram.

Quentin Beck let the shield flicker into nothing, cracking his neck as he activated his armor. “I really did try to let you go, give you a second chance. But if there’s dangerous weaponry like that in this city in the wrong hands, well, I’m not about to let that go.” The armor finished covering him, his voice metallic through the helmet. “And then, well, you had to go and threaten the _kid_, didn’t you?”

The criminal took a half step back. This wasn’t what he had bargained for at all. He carefully squeezed off another pair of shots. Both of them should have impacted Mysterio directly in the chest, but a golden shield flickered into existence before they impacted, absorbing the energy of the bolt.

What the hell were this guy’s reflexes to be able to react that quickly? They say madness is trying the same thing more than once and expecting different results, but the criminal wasn’t giving up that easily. As Mysterio started to perform some other type of magic that didn’t seem to have any direct impact on him, the criminal kept firing, growing frustrated as each shot was deflected or absorbed with ease.

Then he felt a tug on his gun. It was sudden enough that by the time he looked down at it and realized exactly what the webbing covering the barrel meant, it was being wrenched out of his grasp and into the hands of Spider-Man, who was now perched behind him on the top of a shelf, having just come out of a portal that snapped shut.

“Hey there, Mister Criminal. Where’d you get this? Doesn’t look like the type of merchandise that’d be sold at a corner shop like this.” Spider-Man gave a little wave to Sam behind the counter. “You ok, ma’am?”

Sam managed a quick nod, her hands shaking as she made sure to keep filming. Spider-Man and Mysterio? In one night? Her girlfriend was going to love this. Spider-Man gave her a quick two finger salute before returning his attention to the somewhat confused criminal, quickly webbing him up before he could try to run or pull another weapon.

Mysterio turned back to her, deactivating his helmet. “We’ll take care of this. Was anything else stolen, did he have any accomplices?”

Sam shook her head quickly. “It was just him. It was kind of a slow night. Aww man…” She looked at the scorch marks on the walls, the busted cameras. Beck followed her line of sight.

“Yeah, you’re probably gonna want to call your manager or boss or something, maybe shut down for the night. Hey Spider-Man, what’s the eta on the police?” Beck looked over his shoulder as Spider-Man continued securing the criminal.

“Ned says five minutes.”

“Huh. Not bad.” Beck nodded to himself slightly before turning back to Sam. “We’re gonna leave him with you so they can take care of him. With your camera footage, you shouldn’t have any trouble with making sure criminal charges are leveled against him. We can’t do much about the damages, though, sorry.”

“No, no, it’s totally fine.” Sam was still looking between the two heroes and the criminal, eyes wide. “Hey, can I get your autograph? My girlfriend collects them, she’d think it was cool.”

Beck looked back at Spider-Man, who shrugged.

Five minutes later, when the police arrived and Mysterio and Spider-Man were long gone, Samantha Brown was convinced that she might have just had the coolest night of her life.

-

“Ok, opinions?” Beck carefully landed on a rooftop nearby, watching as the police began to investigate the scene. Peter climbed up next to him, deactivating the mask on his suit as he shrugged.

“I think Play Innocent definitely has potential.”

“But?”

Peter shrugged. “I dunno, I just think it needs work?”

“Needs work?” Beck nudged Peter playfully, rolling his eyes. “It went perfectly? I distracted the criminal, there was minimal property damage, and we got another dangerous weapon off the street.”

“Ok, but what if you hadn’t been fast enough with the shield?” Peter met Beck’s eyes, completely serious now. “This gun is the real deal, it’s dangerous stuff. I haven’t seen a weapon like this out on the street in years, not since Toomes went to prison. I know some of his outfit escaped, but I didn’t think they had any more supplies to build stuff like this.”

“Hey.” Beck placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder before he carefully got back to his feet. “I’ll always be fast enough. You forget, I actually have training. And we’ll figure out what to do with the gun.” He carefully opened a small portal into the vault hidden in the Parker apartment where the two of them had stashed any dangerous objects they’d come across on patrol. Until now, it had been nearly empty other than a few pieces of debris from a drone still controlled by the remnants of the other Beck’s crew. “But for now…” He trailed off as he reactivated the helmet on his suit.

“Beck to Mission Control. Next assignment?”

The voice that came over the comms wasn’t the one that Peter or Beck expected. “Sending coordinates now. You guys are gonna want to see this.”

Peter and Beck looked at each other in concern. Matt didn’t often call for backup while he was on patrol, lone wolf instincts too deeply ingrained to ask for help until he was already in over his head.

“Matt? You ok?” It was Peter who spoke first, already getting ready to leap off the roof to head to the action.

“I’m fine. I was on my way to a disturbance, but someone else got there first. And trust me, you’re going to want to see this.”

-

The trek across town took only a few minutes as Peter and Beck raced their way between skyscrapers, both fearing the worst. Both knew that Matt wasn’t the type of hero to leave his quarry in as good shape as Beck and Peter tried to, his title of vigilante rather than the one of hero was accurate. For him to call in the aftermath of a fight as something Peter and Beck would want to see was unusual, and worrying.

But when they got there, it was a very different scene than they were expecting. Matt, in his full Daredevil armor, leaned up against the wall of the alleyway where three grown men sat against the far wall. Two appeared to be conscious, halfheartedly struggling against some sort of cord that had wrapped them up, while the third was slumped on the ground, what looked like a dart of some sort sticking out of his shoulder.

“What the hell happened here?” Beck deactivated his helmet and carefully stepped past Matt, looking around the alleyway for signs of a fight.

Matt shrugged slightly. “According to them, they ‘were just going to mug some chick, when fuckin’ Robin Hood appeared and took them all out with trick arrows.’ Is Barton in town?”

Beck looked to Peter, who shook his head before saying out loud, “If Mister Barton were in town, I can’t imagine he would have gone out on patrol without saying hello first. And he’s definitely not the type of person to leave his prey behind without waiting for us to show up and laughing about how he got here first. This is someone else.”

At this point, Beck had made his way over to the men who were currently conscious, carefully inspecting them. “These definitely look like the type of arrows Barton is known to use. I don’t recognize this particular variety, but the arrowheads are similar.” He carefully pulled on where the arrowhead had embedded itself back into the cording securing the man, activating the camera in his armor to stream pictures back to Ned and MJ in mission control.

“What about that one?” Peter gestured to the unconscious man, and Matt shrugged.

“I think some kind of taser arrow. Looks like a dart because most of it got snapped off when he fell over. Heard the rest of it fall over there.” Matt gestured in the vague direction of the far wall, and Peter walked over, shifting through a pile of debris before he found it.

“That’s not right.” Peter made his way over to Beck, who was still inspecting the criminals on the ground. “Hey Beck, look at that.” He handed the shaft over to him as Beck dusted his hands off and took a closer look.

“Something interesting?” Matt called over from his position at the mouth of the alleyway. “We should probably get out of here soon, by the way. I can hear sirens heading this way. Whoever they tried to mug probably got around to calling it in.”

“I don’t think Hawkeye is in town.” Beck carefully ran his finger down the fletching on the shaft. Rather than Clint’s no-nonsense, standard issue black shaft and fletching, the feathers on this arrow were bright purple. “But someone who wants us to think he is might be. Get up.”

He aimed a weak kick at one of the tied up criminals, who sat up and tried to scoot away from him. “Who attacked you. Describe the person who prevented you from hurting people.”

The criminal gulped, looking between his tow accomplices and Beck, whose eyes had begun to light up golden. Beck wasn’t doing anything, all of the energy was being channeled into the wristbands, but he knew how to intimidate people without having to do the damage that Matt was so fond of.

“I dunno man! We didn’t get a good look!”

“Lie.” Beck glanced back over at Matt, who had finally entered the alleyway and joined him in staring down at the criminal. “Don’t waste our time.”

“Alright, alright!” The criminal’s eyes flickered, terrified, between Beck and Matt, while Peter started climbing up the wall of the alleyway to watch for the police. “Ummm… Short. Thin. Purple and black armor with a hood up. Didn’t miss a shot with that bow of theirs. I only caught a glance under the hood but they were wearing a mask.”

Beck quickly ran through his mental picture of Barton. It confirmed his suspicion – Barton was of pretty average height and build, never wore a hood, and hadn’t worn purple in his costume in years. This was definitely someone else. But just to make sure… “Verdict?”

“Truth,” Matt quietly replied. “Police are two minutes out. Quick escape?”

By the time the police arrived a minute later, there was no evidence that the three Protectors had ever been there other than a single fading golden spark in the air and a missing arrow shaft from the ground.

-

The mood in the Parker apartment that night was best described as confused. While Ned and MJ were excited for the prospect of another hero joining the roster, Beck and Matt weren’t so sure. A newcomer who could take out a group of criminals before any of them got there, and avoid EDITH’s detection to slip back out could be a valuable asset to the team, but was also an unknown quantity.

Therefore, the team met at the place that they always met to discuss the direction of their plans: the Parker apartment dining room table. Matt, Peter, and Beck had all removed their costumes at this point – it was easy for Beck and Peter, who simply disengaged the nanites and were back in comfortable civilian clothing, but Matt had excused himself for a few moments to change into the extra clothes he had left at the apartment for this very reason.

A warm pot of coffee and several slices of May’s walnut-date loaf later (she had made some improvements on the recipe, it was actually pretty good these days), the team was ready to discuss.

“So obviously you guys are going to call Barton in the morning, right?” MJ was direct, already starting to list the steps the team would have to take. “The likelihood that he doesn’t know anything about this is miniscule, and even if he really doesn’t know anything about it, there’s no way he’d be cool with someone stealing his schtick.”

That got a round of nods from the table. “I’ll have Foggy follow up with an old contact of his in the police department, see if the criminals our new Hawkeye brought in say anything new that they didn’t tell us.”

There was a slight pause in the discussion before Peter swore quietly under his breath, getting up from the table and running to the vault. “A new hero wasn’t the only thing interesting that happened tonight. Look at what we ran into.”

Peter tossed the gun onto the table, making doubly sure that the safety was on before he did so. Ned gasped, his eyes going wide as he noticed the purple glow coming from the power core built into the body of the gun. “Is that one of the guns that Toomes was selling?”

“I don’t know.” Peter frowned as he watched it come to a halt in the middle of the table. “Toomes is still in jail, but the battle at the Compound left a decent amount of technological debris, even if the vast majority of Thanos’ army got dusted. It’s not impossible to consider that there’s someone new in the game. They never did catch whoever was actually producing the weapons that Toomes was selling, after all.”

Beck took a careful sip of coffee before offering, “So it seems like we have three problems.”

“Wait, three?” MJ looked at Beck in confusion, not sure where he was going with this. “New vigilante and new weapons. What’s the third?”

“Someone has a bounty on my head.” Peter quietly spoke up now, although he had been hoping that it wouldn’t have come up. This wasn’t really anything new, the criminal underground of New York City had been gunning for him since he first put on his sweatpants and swung around the city, but if someone was supplying those criminals with high tech weapons to specifically come after him, that was a problem.

Beck nodded along, gesturing to Peter. “The criminal we stopped in the convenience store seemed confident that he could take Peter out with the gun he had. Personally, I think that’s a little overconfident even at the best of times, but if whoever gave him the weapon in the first place is trying to take Peter out, that doesn’t strike me as the type of thing you give up on after the first failure.”

“Ok, so it seems like we have a plan of action, then,” MJ summarized. “Call Barton in the morning. See what he knows. Do some research on Toomes’ old crew, see if any of them have been sighted in the area recently. Contact Pepper, see if she has inventories on the tech salvaged from the battle at the Compound, and if any of it is missing. Keep an eye out for the new vigilante. Am I missing anything?”

-

There was a warehouse by the waterfront that had sat empty for years. Now, while on the outside it still appeared empty, the inside had become a busy hive of activity, a handful of illusion projecting drones concealing the growing operation.

The Crew, which was what they called themselves, had once been scattered, disaffected remnants of groups that they really believed in. Now, after their lives and visions were destroyed by a certain wall-crawling loudmouth, they were united under one goal: revenge.

All of them had been individually approached over the last few months, some before the disaster in Europe, some after, by an unknown and wealthy benefactor who promised them riches beyond their imagination and a place among the giants of technological innovation like Tony Stark.

It was that second promise that had caught the eye of Phineas Mason, once known to his coworkers as the Tinkerer. He was going to be so careful this time. Only send the tech out with people who had proved themselves worthy.

Or that the Benefactor told him were. Mason hadn’t been happy about sending a Chitauri powered gun, even one as small as it was, out with an unknown and untested small-time criminal. But he had done it, and he hadn’t been happy about it, and now it seemed his worry was coming to fruition.

“And we’re sure he got taken into custody without the gun?” Mason turned to one of the newer engineers – what was his name? Doug? – who nodded.

“The video is all over the news. _Mysterio_ foiled his plan to knock over a convenience store. I don’t know…” Doug trailed off, looking around nervously before dropping his voice, “I don’t know why we gave a gun to that guy. A weapon that small, it’s not going to do anything to Spider-Man, much less _Beck_.”

That last name was spat with venom. Doug hadn’t made it back to the States from Europe after the disaster before the rest of Beck’s old crew was taken into custody, and while he wasn’t sure he believed the current version of Mysterio was actually from another dimension, if he wasn’t that kind of betrayal was unacceptable.

Mason shook his head. “The Boss says to give a gun to someone, we give them a gun. Just hope it doesn’t come back to bite us in the ass while we work on the real showstopper.”

That worry wouldn’t go away any time soon. No one was really sure what they were building, but they were getting paid to do so, and there was the promise of revenge against the people who had ruined their lives.

And the threat against their own, implicit in the understanding that if they had gone this far under the direction of their mysterious benefactor, they weren’t getting out until the end, one way or the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter Teaser: Wait For It
> 
> The next morning, bright and early, a portal opened onto Clint’s freshly cut lawn. He was waiting for them after a hurried phone call that had consisted of “we’re coming over, need to discuss something important, we’re bringing breakfast.”
> 
> Considering it was barely after seven in the morning for Clint, he looked pretty awake. His hair still showed signs of bedhead even after he had hurriedly run his fingers through it, and he had thrown on an old grey t-shirt rather than the ratty sleeping shirt he had been wearing. That being said, Clint Barton, ex Agent of SHIELD and spy, was still wearing an old pair of black sweatpants and slightly dingy slippers.


	2. Wait For It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, well, Sony and Disney need to be put in the get along corner until they work this out, please. I gotta believe that this was a strategic leak to put pressure on both sides to accept a deal but in the meantime I’m gonna keep writing fanfic where Spider-Man leaving the MCU isn’t even a consideration.

The next morning, bright and early, a portal opened onto Clint’s freshly cut lawn. He was waiting for them after a hurried phone call that had consisted of “we’re coming over, need to discuss something important, we’re bringing breakfast.”

Considering it was barely after seven in the morning for Clint, he looked pretty awake. His hair still showed signs of bedhead even after he had hurriedly run his fingers through it, and he had thrown on an old grey t-shirt rather than the ratty sleeping shirt he had been wearing. That being said, Clint Barton, ex Agent of SHIELD and spy, was still wearing an old pair of black sweatpants and slightly dingy slippers.

If he was going to be woken up at an ungodly hour on the weekend, he wasn’t going to put any effort into trying to impress his visitors.

“You know,” he called out as the portal snapped shut behind Peter, Beck, and Matt, “When I get called on my days off, I expect a good reason. You all don’t exactly look as worried as you would if you were coming about an alien invasion or some sort of doomsday device that can only be shut down by a perfect shot from an expert marksman.” Clint mimed shooting an arrow before making grabby hands at the to-go bag and cup of coffee that Beck held, the coffee cup emblazoned with the familiar shield-with-star-replaced-by-coffee-cup of the Cup-tain Americano coffee shop. “Since none of you are in uniform, I’m gonna venture a guess that it might not be as urgent as you made it out to be.”

Beck rolled his eyes and handed it over, allowing a small smile to cross his face as Clint took a long, appreciative sip of the coffee before noticing the name written on it. “Aww, coffee cup, no… Hawkguy, really, Beck?”

“Hey, I told Allie it was for Hawkeye. She must’ve misheard me.” Clint gave him another eye roll as he waved them inside, reaching inside the bag for what turned out to be a delicious sausage, egg, and cheese muffin.

“Try to keep it down. Laura and the kids are still asleep.” The group filed in and sat around the table, the three visitors awkwardly looking at each other as Clint made quick work of the breakfast sandwich. “So. Important discussion. Go.”

It was Beck who finally broke the silence. “Clint, when was the last time you were in New York City?”

Clint thoughtfully licked a bit of egg off a finger, considering. “Ahhhh… A while, really. Probably not since during the Blip, if I’m being honest. Upstate, yes. In the city? No.”

Peter carefully pulled his phone out of his pocket, passing it to Clint to show him pictures from the crime scene the night before. “So that wasn’t you?”

Matt listened as Clint’s heartrate sped up for a handful of beats before it settled, not sure whether it was a genuine response of surprise or whether Clint was really that good at hiding his reactions to things. “Nope.” Clint balled up the foil wrapper from the egg sandwich, tossing it back in the bag and crumpling that up as well before shooting a perfect arc into the trash can across the room. “Whoever it was was a good shot, though. Bolo arrows are a pain to shoot with any degree of accuracy.”

Peter and Beck shared a quick look. “So if it wasn’t you, do you know who it was?” Peter watched Clint carefully as the archer shook his head.

“Nope.” Clint popped the p before taking another long drink of coffee. “No idea.”

This time Matt was almost certain that Clint was lying. “And you would tell us if you knew who it was?”

“Oh yeah, of course.” Clint finished the cup of coffee, throwing it as well into the garbage can. “New vigilantes in New York City are of interest to all of us. Now, if you don’t have anything else to discuss, my family and I were planning on going to the pool in town today.”

He flicked a finger towards the door. “Obviously you all are welcome here any time, and it’s always lovely to see you, especially when you bring breakfast. Have a good day.”

Peter and Beck shared another glance as they carefully got up, Matt following. “If you remember anything, you’ll let us know, correct?” Matt tilted his head slightly, and Clint felt like the blind man was somehow staring right into his soul.

“Yeah, of course.”

The four of them exited the house as Beck started to open another portal. Clint remained on the porch watching. Things were about to get interesting.

-

The portal opened to Matt’s apartment, which the four of them had decided would be the base of operations while they were looking for the new vigilante, since the previous night’s attempted mugging had taken place not far away.

“Ok, so we’re all aware that Clint was full of shit, right?” Matt made his way over to his refrigerator, pouring himself a glass of water. “He definitely knew more than he was saying.”

Peter dropped down on the couch, staring out the window at the lit-up billboard outside. “Oh yeah. Another master archer acting as a vigilante? There’s no way he doesn’t know who it is. But we can’t force him to tell us.” He deliberately met the eyes of both Beck and Matt, who both made a face. “Guys. We can’t force him to tell us. He’s on our side. If he doesn’t want to tell us, he probably has a good reason.”

“Yeah, yeah, we can’t force him.” Matt rolled his eyes. “But this still leaves us at the same place. No idea who the vigilante is, no idea where to start on the weapon, and no idea who has a bounty out on Spider-Man’s head.”

There was quiet in the room for a few moments as Beck sat down heavily on the couch next to Peter, his head in his hands. He mumbled something under his breath as he swiped his hands over his face, sighing.

“Both of us have enhanced senses but even I couldn’t understand that, Beck,” Matt called from the kitchen, rooting around in his cupboard for some pretzels or something. Portals always unsettled his stomach, maybe it was something about rapidly changing location without the extra visual cues to help make sense of it.

“It’s nothing.” Beck shook his head, nervously running his hands through his hair again. “I hate supervillains, ok? They don’t exist on my world, we have bigger problems to deal with than people with overinflated egos who think power means they get to hurt people. Crazy cults who think the Elementals are the good guys, sure. But not supervillains. What I wouldn’t give for a nice, simple, obvious threat rather than all of this hiding in the dark.”

Neither Matt nor Peter could dispute that. Life had gotten exponentially more complicated since the first appearance of Iron Man and the threats that followed him on the world stage. But at the same time…

“Man, I really hope life isn’t that bad here that you’re wishing for the good old days of city-destroying, world-ending threats,” Peter quipped, nudging Beck with his elbow. “We’ll figure it all out. I’m just worried-”

Peter stood up quickly, hands on his head as a horrifying realization came to him. “There’s a bounty on my head. Oh my god, there’s a bounty on my head.”

Beck watched him carefully. “Peter, are you just realizing this?”

“No no, you don’t understand.” Peter gestured frantically at himself. “There’s a bounty on _my_ head. Peter Parker _is_ Spider-Man. And while criminals seem to have respected the work-life separation I tried to keep with the whole secret identity, if someone is specifically trying to come after me with something as personal as a bounty, that means that they’ll come after my friends and family too. I have to call Aunt May.”

He frantically searched through his pockets, fumbling with his cellphone before his sticky fingers attached themselves firmly and he was able to dial May.

“Peter? Is everything ok?” Peter closed his eyes and relaxed slightly. Aunt May seemed to be ok, at least. “Peter, you’re scaring me. Say something.”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine, May. I just wanted to check in on you. Have you heard from Ned or MJ this morning?” He paced back and forth in front of the window. If everything was fine, she probably wouldn’t have, but the group chat had been uncharacteristically quiet that morning.

Granted, it was barely ten am at this point, and neither MJ nor Ned were morning people. They were probably fine.

“No, I haven’t heard from them. Peter, are you sure you’re ok?” May’s concern was obvious through the phone.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m gonna call them now. I’ll be home later, ok?”

“Ok, Peter. Be safe.”

Peter ended the call, then repeated it with Ned and MJ to similar results. Both were fine; confused, and a little concerned, but fine.

“Now what?” Matt had finally found the pretzels in his cabinet and had taken a seat at his kitchen table. “Your friends are fine. Odds are that whoever’s going to come after them won’t make a move until night anyway. Now, I have had less than three hours of sleep, and I would appreciate it if the two of you would leave my apartment while I try to rectify that fact.”

-

That was how Peter and Beck ended up back at the New York Sanctum, Peter pacing around the circumference of the training room while Beck ran through a series of basic magical and physical exercises to get his racing mind back under control.

“I just can’t help but think how coincidental all this timing was.” Beck opened an eye, distracted from his concentration, and tracked Peter as the kid walked across the ceiling, still rambling on. “We go to a corner store to stop a robbery. Wannabe thief has a weapon with technology I haven’t seen in… well, a while, but if they’re coming after me, they’ve gotta know my capabilities, right? A pistol that small wielded by an ordinary human with no enhanced abilities isn’t going to ever actually hit me. So why do it? Why actively invite my attention if they know they’re not going to come out on top?”

Those were all actually good points, Beck realized. Especially since anyone going after Spider-Man these days would have to know that he’s almost always backed up by either Beck himself, or occasionally Matt. If someone wanted to invite disaster in this way, there were better times to do it. It was a well-known fact that outside of major incidents, Mysterio didn’t patrol on Wednesday nights.

If someone wanted Spider-Man alone, why not stage a robbery then? Why not have backup of their own?

Peter walked back down the wall, laying down on the long wooden bench on the far side of the room from Beck. “You know what I mean? It just doesn’t make any sense. Only things I can think of is that the criminal really was that dumb, or…” He trailed off as he realized where that line of thought was going, “Or whoever gave him the weapon wanted him to get caught, wanted me – us – to know what was going on. Maybe to lure us into a trap? Or maybe someone on the inside is actually a good person and they’re just trying to help?”

Beck finally let the magic he had been weaving dissipate. He knew that when Peter got like this, he definitely wasn’t going to be able to focus to the level he needed to be in order to actually relax or meditate or center himself. “I’m inclined to suspect the first option. You don’t send a weapon like that out without knowing exactly what you’re doing. The supplier had to know that the two of us would easily take out whoever they sent, which means they want us to have the gun, and they want that guy in custody. Do we know where the guy got sent?”

That was actually a good question. A few moments later, Peter had gotten the answer to that question and a few more that he hadn’t known that he had.

“Well, shit,” Beck murmured under his breath, scrolling through the list of inmates at the facility. “It seems our low-level criminal is in there with some familiar faces. Janice. Victoria. Toomes. William. Shit.”

Peter tapped Toomes’ profile thoughtfully. “Toomes had someone who made his technology. It wasn’t just him, and that person was never brought in.”

“And neither were some members of Mysterio’s crew,” Beck added, considering the other names on the list. “Ok, consider. Remnants of both crews were brought together. You make some weapons, get people out on the streets looking for Spider-Man. Because of their technology and the threats those criminals make, they get thrown in with other technology-based threats.”

“Wait, so you think this isn’t about us?” Peter kept swiping through the inmate list, noting other familiar faces. That guy from the Ferry deal. Guterman. All people who he had dealt with before.

“On the contrary. I think this is extremely personal. Someone brought together two technologically skilled crews together, they’ve got to be planning something. And this,” He gestured to the list of names they had put together, “All of them in one place? Can’t be a coincidence. That being said, I don’t think we have enough information to do anything about it right now. We don’t have any excuse to go to the prison and talk to anyone, and letting them know that we’re onto them might be a worse idea than doing nothing.”

“So what do we do, then?” Beck sighed. He had seen that look on Peter’s face before. He had worn it himself so many times in training when the Acolytes had been told to stay behind from a fight that they were convinced they should be a part of.

“For now?” Beck placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder, his other hand starting to carve a portal in the air. “For now, you go home and get some rest, and so do I. We meet up tonight, go on patrol as usual, and see if we can’t get a line on the new vigilante’s identity.”

Before Peter could protest, Beck shoved him through the portal and snapped it closed before the kid could jump back through. He was serious about Peter getting some rest before they went out again tonight. Beck, though, had some research to do.

-

The Coney Island Incident, as it was known on Wikipedia, was a fascinating read for Beck. The transcripts from Toomes’ trial, even more so. On his world, the man had worked in the salvage business, same as here, but had used the Vulture armor designed by his firm to clear away large pieces of debris and aid in search and rescue. Here, it seemed, desperation had driven him in a very different direction.

In a way, it was a little chilling. Beck had had his own experience with what this dimension seemed to do to people, twisting people he had known – good people – into the worst versions of themselves. Not for the first time, he wondered what would have happened if this dimension’s Mysterio had had a chance to become a Sorcerer, to be a real hero rather than the fraud he set himself up to be.

And some part of him wanted to give that chance to the Toomes here. Make no mistake, if the man was really behind the weapon, was really out for Peter’s head, Beck would take his first. But he had to hold out hope that if the man was given a way out, didn’t have the same desperation to provide for his family, maybe he could find his way to the light.

Unfortunately, despite the history that Beck uncovered he didn’t find any new leads on the vigilante. Governmental records from during the Blip were sketchy at best, and anything he could find on criminal takedowns with arrows were attributed to a “Ronin,” which became clear fairly quickly was another codename of Clint’s.

Except. Except except except. Beck continued sorting through the Ronin files, realizing there were inconsistencies. In the second year of the Blip, there was a Ronin attack in New York City. The official timeline put Clint’s departure from his Hawkeye persona somewhere within the first six months, marked by a near complete absence of the use of his signature bow and arrows, and a move towards the use of a sword.

Then, there was a departure from the pattern. Crime scenes where both a swordsman and a marksman were present. According to Clint’s later testimony after the Battle at the Compound, he was alone, and some fights simply lent themselves to a mixture of the two.

But. Beck kept sifting through the files, something still bothering him. There was a general escalation of violence over the five years of the Blip, starting small at a near vigilante level before turning into targeted hits. Somewhere in the fourth year of the Blip, though, there was a pause. Nearly two months with no activity from Ronin or what Beck was believing to be his accomplice.

Then it started back up again, there was no more use of a bow, and the violence continued to escalate.

Beck thoughtfully tapped his finger against the top of his desk, trying to put the pieces together. Clearly Hawkeye-as-Ronin had had a partner. Then, either that partner got hurt, or Clint got hurt, or something else happened to put them both out of commission. Then, that partner parted ways, leaving the business, until now.

What was different now? Why would the accomplice suddenly resurface almost two years after they had vanished? What had changed?

Beck carefully took down his notes and suspicions before switching off the computer. It had been a long day, and the work was just beginning. Maybe he’d have a chance to have a little bit of rest before patrol tonight.

-

Unfamiliar hall, unfamiliar people. The vibrations, strong enough to nearly knock his dream-self down, even though some part of him knew it was coming.

The portal, warped and twisted from what magic should be.

_Something was coming_.

-

They met as they always did on patrol nights on top of Peter’s apartment building. Peter had done as Beck had suggested – take a nap, played some video games with Ned, generally chilled during the day while he was waiting for the real fun to begin. It didn’t take super senses, however, to notice something was off about Beck.

Peter had noticed the man seemed to always look tired these days, and the tell-tale golden glint of magic seemed to shine in his eyes more often than not as he used the power of the dimensions to steady himself. Peter had asked him numerous times if he was ok, and Beck always gave the same response. He was fine, of course, and seemed genuinely confused as to why he was always so tired.

Something was wrong, Peter could tell, but for some reason, Beck didn’t seem to fully know what was going on with him, never had a satisfactory answer. So eventually Peter dropped it from conversation, but not from his thoughts.

“Where to?” Beck was already suited up as Peter came onto the roof, although with his helmet down Peter could see the dark circles under the man’s eyes.

“I thought we’d start in the general area of the vigilante attack from last night, run a general search pattern in the area and see if we find anything we missed last night, or any sign of activity.” Peter activated his mask, getting ready to jump off the roof. “If they are styling themselves off Hawkeye, they probably aren’t someone with any particular amount of mobility, which means that they can only patrol so big of an area. If we’re lucky, they’ll stay in the same part of the city.”

With that he leapt off the roof, allowing himself to fall a few stories before sending out a webline and swinging in the direction of the attack from the night before. Beck activated his helmet and followed, still thinking about what he had uncovered.

A quiet night searching for the vigilante was not to be, however. Low level criminal scum seemed out in force, and while Peter normally enjoyed breaking up muggings and stopping minor thefts, tonight he felt restless. He had important things that he wanted to be doing on patrol!

He quickly did his best to stop the irritation growing in his mind, however. Sticking up for the little guy was what he did, it was what made him him. Someone had to help out where the higher-level superheroes never would.

So when no immediate call came in after he had to split off from Beck to stop a mugging while Beck dealt with an attempted kidnapping, it was almost a relief. It wasn’t until fifteen minutes later, when Beck caught up to him and tried to hail Ned to ask for their next direction that Peter realized something was terribly wrong.

-

MJ was the one who noticed something was up. May was hanging out with her and Ned in the mission control suite in the apartment for once – the older woman usually preferred to “not know exactly what Peter is doing so that I don’t have to spend my entire night worried about him,” but the abnormally high volume of activity had pushed the three of them into an all-hands-on-deck situation.

MJ had left the room to refill the water pitcher from the kitchen sink when she saw it – the lock on the door slowly sliding unlocked, the door creaking open, the slight movement of a hand in black body armor slowly reaching through the door.

In hindsight, dropping the pitcher probably wasn’t the best idea. The hand abruptly withdrew, and as MJ began backing towards the mission control room, it returned, this time with something small and silver and spherical and MJ’s brain screamed at her to run.

She listened, making it out of the kitchen and into the hallway leading to the other rooms in the apartment before everything went to hell. There was a high-pitched whine, followed by a concussive blast that nearly knocked her off her feet, sending her careening into the mission control room. The lights flickered off as she entered, the monitors and comms feeds shutting down as she frantically slammed the door shut behind her, locking it.

“Someone’s here. Help me barricade the door!”

Ned and May sprang into action, frantically pushing what furniture they could against the door as MJ scrambled for the comms.

Dead.

Phones?

Dead.

There was no way to contact Peter or Beck or Matt or anyone who could conceivably help them. MJ caught Ned’s eye from across the room as he sunk down against the wall across from the door, staring at it as the first bang came from the intruder trying to break in.

“I’ve really enjoyed this, working with you guys. It’s nice to feel like I’m doing something important, instead of wasting my time playing with video games or Legos.” His voice was small, quiet, and MJ immediately was transported back to the Crown Jewels Vault in London again.

MJ slid down the wall next to him, huddling in the corner. “I was only about sixty-seven percent sure that Peter was Spider-Man before he confirmed it in Prague. I’m glad he did, though. Even if this is the end, I’m glad it was with you guys.”

May looked down at the two teenagers, positioning herself in front of the two of them. “You two are the best people that ever happened to Peter. You keep him grounded even when crazy things start happening. I am not going to let anything happen to you.”

As she squared herself up for a fight, a very different sound came from outside the room. There was breaking glass, and muffled, startled exclamations. The three hiding in the room looked at each other in confusion as more, unknowable sounds came from the hallway.

And then it was quiet. MJ would have sworn that she saw something jump back out the window and swing away, but the shape was wrong for it to be Peter, and she didn’t know anyone else who did that sort of thing.

It was MJ who first got up, five minutes after the noise had stopped and close to ten since the attack had begun. The lights finally started flickering back on, the low emergency lighting that the backup generator would provide before the autorepair systems would deal with whatever damage had been done by the grenade.

She carefully crept to the door, opening it a crack. Through the weak lighting, she could make out half a dozen bodies on the ground, all restrained and unconscious and probably not dead, MJ hoped as she skirted around a small dark stain on the carpet.

The window in through the balcony was smashed, that was obvious. There were shards of glass covering the carpet, and more signs of a struggle out here. The apartment door, at least, was closed, which would hopefully keep the neighbors from getting too nosy.

“Whoah.” MJ spun around quickly, relaxing slightly when she saw it was only Ned and May behind her. Ned pointed to something she had missed – a single arrow sticking out from the wall, a piece of paper impaled by it.

Peter and Beck chose this moment to make their appearance, staggering out of a portal in the living room and expecting a fight. Peter looked around in shock, quickly gesturing between MJ, Ned, May, and the pile of bodies on the floor. “Uh…” He swallowed, looking for the words. “Was that you?”

MJ shook her head, pulling the note down and quickly reading it. “Looks like we have someone watching our backs.”

She handed the note over to Peter, Beck looking over his shoulder to read it as well.

“_Don’t worry, I have my eye on you. Your Friendly Neighborhood Hawkeye._”

Peter looked back at Beck, who was frowning. “I think we need to have another chat with Clint.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter Teaser: I Know Her
> 
> Even with their new evidence, Clint refused to talk the next morning. Peter was frustrated. It was obvious the older man knew something, that glint in his eye speaking more to the situation than any words he said, but without resorting to attempting to torture the information out of him (an option that Peter knew wouldn’t work, considering the guy’s background) they weren’t going to get any more information out of him.
> 
> This was why Peter had resigned himself to trying again during patrol later that day. He sat at one of the shaded tables in front of Cup-tain Americano (his preferred table had the umbrella painted to look like a spiderweb, but that table had been taken, so he instead sat beneath a rendition of Captain America’s shield), sipping a Spidey-Sense Latte, and waiting for Beck to finish his shift.


	3. I Know Her

Even with their new evidence, Clint refused to talk the next morning. Peter was frustrated. It was obvious the older man knew something, that glint in his eye speaking more to the situation than any words he said, but without resorting to attempting to torture the information out of him (an option that Peter knew wouldn’t work, considering the guy’s background) they weren’t going to get any more information out of him.

This was why Peter had resigned himself to trying again during patrol later that day. He sat at one of the shaded tables in front of Cup-tain Americano (his preferred table had the umbrella painted to look like a spiderweb, but that table had been taken, so he instead sat beneath a rendition of Captain America’s shield), sipping a Spidey-Sense Latte, and waiting for Beck to finish his shift.

Despite the stress that hung over him, it was always kind of funny to watch Beck at work. Somehow the image of Mysterio wearing the standard-issue food service apron and baseball hat with the shop logo, inexpertly working the cash register while occasionally taking photos with newcomers to the shop who hadn’t read the little sign propped up against the cash register before always managed to make him chuckle.

Finally, just as Peter had finished his drink and was beginning to hit that awkward stage of not actively partaking in a product from the shop but still using their real estate, Beck’s shift ended. Peter watched as he carefully made his way out from behind the counter, pulling off and folding his apron and hat as he did so and tossed them through a small portal into his room at the Sanctum.

“Got nothing better to do, Pete?” Beck gave Peter a lopsided grin as he passed the table, not even looking to see if he followed him as he walked down the street.

“We’ve got lots of better things to do, I just don’t know what they are yet. That’s the problem.” Peter jogged a little to catch up with Beck, “The apartment’s still a crime scene, and Wong won’t let me into the Sanctum when you’re not there after last time, so I came by to say hi?”

Beck gave Peter a look as they continued down the sidewalk towards the bank. “Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself that’s all it is more than me, kid. What’s really going on.”

“I just…” Peter shook his head, trying to put the feeling into words. “Sometimes I just get feelings about danger or where I’m supposed to be. All my instincts are saying to stick close to you this morning, like something’s going to happen. Something big.”

Beck placed a hand on his chest, pretending to be hurt. “And here I am thinking you just wanted to spend time with me. Hey!” He rubbed his arm slightly, exaggerating his reaction from being lightly punched by Peter. “Look, I just have to deposit my paycheck and then I was going to head over to Dorothy’s to-”

“Oooh, Dorothy” Peter gave Beck a shit eating grin, who rolled his eyes and shoved him a few feet away playfully. “Is she your girlfriend, Beck? I did say you needed to get out more, have some friends…”

“Shut it, you. Dorothy is a very lovely seventy-year-old woman who happens to have the best selection of wool yarn in the city.” At Peter’s eyebrow waggle at that, Beck finally resorted to rolling his eyes and sighing out of overexaggerated exasperation. “And I am not discussing my love life or lack thereof with someone who thought his love interest was only watching him because she thought he was Spider-Man.”

“Oooh, low blow.” Peter laughed before going slightly more serious, flicking a finger towards the normal ring that Beck always wore. “Were you married on your world?”

“What?” Beck’s jovial tone also immediately dropped from his voice. “No, this was… This was my dad’s. Only thing of my parents I was allowed to keep after they died. And there’s not much time for romantic entanglements when you’re constantly fighting for your life.” The two of them walked in silence for a moment as he anxiously twisted the ring on his finger before he took a deep breath and plastered a smile back on his face. “And that’s none of your business, anyway. After you.”

The two of them walked into the polished lobby of the bank. It was surprisingly full for a Monday morning, patrons milling around as they waited in lines to speak to a teller or one of the other employees. Peter’s extra sense was tingling like nothing else, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what was wrong. No one looked out of place, no one was acting suspiciously, no one other than the security guards were armed…

Wait. As the line moved forwards and the next person made their way to the teller, Peter realized something was off. The man was wearing a raincoat, but it was bright and sunny outside, and as he shifted the coat slightly to pull out a wallet, Peter saw it.

A silver, space-age looking gun, the core glowing a bright blue color. Other than the difference in color of energy, the gun looked like it could have been an exact replica of the pistol that he and Beck had taken from the criminal from the corner store.

Peter knew what was going to happen an instant before it did. Not enough time to act, not enough time to do anything as the clock ticked to 10:15 and everything went to shit.

It was actually kind of impressive how well choreographed it was. The man in the raincoat pulled his pistol, firing into the air in perfect synchronization with half a dozen other people who were milling around the lobby of the bank.

“This is a robbery!” the man at the desk called, his pistol still in the air as his accomplices leveled their weapons at the crowd. “Cell phones! On the ground, kick them towards Gus over there!” He gestured towards a muscular man near the center of the room, who grinned nastily as he slowly panned his gun over the cringing crowd. “Once you do that, everyone go over there! Sit down, shut up, and let Cecelia bind you with duct tape and no one gets hurt. And you!” He turned back to the teller, who was clearly on the verge of tears. “Open the vault.”

Peter and Beck shared a quick glance. Peter mimed his webshooting gesture towards the lead guy quickly, and Beck shook his head. “Too many of them,” he whispered. “Too many civilians. Too many options for people to get hurt. Let’s wait and see what happens.” The gold of magic was bleeding into his irises, and Peter could see him messing with the settings on his wristbands, trying to keep any of the other visible signs out of the eye of the hostage takers. “The second they look like they’re about to start shooting, though...”

“No talking!” Peter found himself sliding a few feet along the polished floor as one of the unnamed criminals aimed a kick at his ribs that was a little harder than it needed to be. “Get over there!”

Both Peter and Beck carefully took their phones out of their pockets, dropping them in the growing pile as they made their way over to where the civilians were huddling as one of the criminals began binding their hands together.

Things were escalating between the raincoat man and the teller, who seemed on the verge of tears as he shouted at her. “Open the vault! I’m not going to ask again!”

“I can’t!” The teller, whose nametag put her as Marcy, cried, tugging on the vault wheel. “The vault automatically seals in the event of weapons fire. I couldn’t open it even if I wanted to.”

“Well then.” The raincoat man leveled his pistol at her head. “I guess you are of no more use to me. Sorry about this, I really didn’t want to kill anyone today.”

The room tensed in anticipation of a gunshot that didn’t come. Instead, the sound of breaking glass shattered the tense silence in the lobby as an arrow sprouted from Raincoat’s wrist, forcing him to drop the gun. Peter looked up in awe as a figure dressed in black and purple swung through the skylight above from a rope, finishing her neat arc down with a kick to Raincoat’s head.

Peter looked on in awe, only pausing his gawking long enough to almost absentmindedly activate his suit, catching Beck doing the same out of the corner of his eye. The newcomer was dressed in purple and black body armor, a hood covering their head and a mask covering most of their face. A quiver, similar to Clint’s but with a flatter profile was strapped over their back, and Peter recognized the bow they carried as a near identical model to the one Clint used, down to the bow transforming itself into a staff with a flick of the newcomer’s wrist as they neatly smacked Raincoat across the head, making sure that he was down.

“You two mind if I join the party?” At this point both Peter and Beck were in their full armor, Peter in a battle stance ready to web the nearest criminal while Beck was setting up a protective shield around the civilians. Well, that was a surprise.

Other Hawkeye was a girl.

“Glad your invitation didn’t get lost in the mail!” Peter quipped as he shot out a webline towards the nearest criminal, yanking their gun away from them as the second shot webbed their legs together.

The ensuing battle was brief but brutal. The other Hawkeye was every bit as good of a shot as her namesake, fluidly switching her bow back and forth between its staff form as she fired arrow after arrow – some trick, some sharp and deadly – at the assailants, only occasionally stopping to give a beatdown to any one who got too close.

And then the criminals were down and she was using her grappling hook again to try and get away from the scene. Thinking quickly, Peter webbed the criminals’ guns together and tossed them to Beck. “Take care of those! She’s getting away!”

Even behind the mist-filled helmet, Peter could guess at the eyeroll that followed. Beck opened the same portal as before into the vault at the Parker apartment, only pausing to speak to the teller. “Police are coming, just tell them what happened and you’ll be fine. All the criminals should be out.” He could already hear the sirens in the distance making their way towards the bank. “Sorry to save and run but we’ve got to take care of something.”

-

The new Hawkeye was surprisingly adept at getting around, given that she didn’t seem to be enhanced in any obvious way. Beck briefly considered throwing a portal her way, dumping her into the Sanctum and dealing with her there, but decided he was more curious about seeing her lair, and simply followed her from a safe distance alongside Peter. He was pretty sure that Hawkeye was fully aware that the two of them were following her, but she didn’t take any efforts to evade them, instead following a simple, direct path over roofs, occasionally using a grappling arrow to bridge a gap too far to jump.

Eventually, as they began to reach an area still rundown and semi-abandoned after the Blip, her pace began to slow before she hopped down through a skylight on what might have once been an art gallery. Beck waited for Peter to catch up on the roof.

“How do we want to handle this?” Peter landed next to Beck, considering the scene. The skylight seemed to open up into a large atrium-like area in the building, and he could see the rope that the woman had used to drop down without hurting herself. “I don’t want to scare her off, but she definitely knew we were following her. And,” he paused, testing the skylight, “It’s not locked.”

Beck shrugged, wordlessly opening the light and gesturing to the drop. “After you.”

What awaited them was a strange mixture of exactly what they expected from the dingy exterior of the building and a high tech setup that would rival mission control back in the Parker apartment. An unmade bed sat in one far corner of the room next to a wardrobe and set of drawers. Peter noted that the armored jacket had been flung haphazardly onto the bed, the bow and quiver slightly more neatly leaned up against the wall nearby.

The real star of the room was the computer setup and the accompanying corkboard, covered in post-it notes, string, and images of people and places, only half of which Peter recognized. As he and Beck stepped closer to the board in an attempt to figure it out, Hawkeye chose her moment to make an appearance.

“Took you long enough to catch up to me. Clint said you were better than that.” Peter and Beck spun to take in the young woman who watched them from an open door on the other side of the room. She was of average height, fairly slim, with long black hair pulled back into a ponytail. Instead of the armor that they had first seen her in, she was wearing a simple black tank top under an oversized purple hoodie that Peter could have sworn he had seen Clint wear at one point.

“Clint hasn’t said anything about you.” Peter carefully began circling around the edge of the room, noting with some interest that the woman didn’t seem to give into the instinct to watch him move, focusing instead on Beck, who was leaning casually against a wall. “In fact, he has very specifically told us nothing about you.”

“Good. He kept his promise, then.” Hawkeye walked over to a small fridge plugged into the wall, pulling a pitcher of water out and pouring herself a drink. “You fellas want anything?”

“Some answers, some explanations perhaps. But water, no, thank you.”

Hawkeye shrugged, putting the pitcher back in the fridge and walking over to a small table and set of chairs, sitting down comfortably. “My name’s Kate Bishop. I worked with Clint during the Blip for a couple years, keeping the streets safe from people who deserved to be dusted that weren’t. When Clint heard that you were putting together a new team, he suggested that I try and get involved. But just emailing or calling you seemed so pedestrian, so…” She trailed off, taking a long sip of her water and gesturing towards her bow, “Consider that my audition?”

Beck and Peter shared a long look. All of that fit with what Beck had discovered in his research, but still left some very important questions like, “How did you know that those people were going to attack my apartment?”

Before speaking, Kate stood, making her way over to the computer setup and corkboard. “I was tracking a series of thefts across the country from old SHIELD bases and Department of Damage Control storage facilities. After Clint and I parted ways, I noticed an uptick in high powered weaponry hitting the streets. There was a storage facility in New York City, so I decided to stake it out, figured they’d hit it eventually.”

“And did they?” It all sounded plausible, and Peter remembered just how empty the DoDC warehouse that he had gotten trapped in had been. It was entirely possible that criminals would have used the warehouses as a source of easy tech during the Blip, which was an extremely worrying thing to consider.

Kate shook her head. “Not yet. But I overheard them saying they were going after some technology they lost, and that just happened to be at your apartment. Lucky coincidence, really.”

“The guys in the alley? Today?”

“The guys in the alley was personal. I don’t like bullies. Today…” Kate shrugged, giving the two a small smile, “I try and keep an eye on the two of you, and when I realized that I recognized some of the people in the bank it seemed like the fates had finally decreed that we should meet. Hold on.”

Kate turned back to her computer as a quiet but urgent alarm began to sound, a news alert scrolling across the central of three screens. “Hey, you two? I think you might want to see this.”

-

Meeting Adrian Toomes was one of the most interesting things to ever happen to one William Ginter Riva. When he and the other major members of Beck’s crew had been thrown into the Rockwood Correctional Facility, they had assumed it was the end. The end of their plans, their hopes, their dreams. None of them had broken yet as far as he knew, giving up the secrets of their technology, their other associates in exchange for lighter sentences or preferential treatment, but it had only been a month and a half. He knew that time would come. Maybe it would even be him who broke.

But it had been one sunny Wednesday morning during the hour that what was left of the Crew’s leadership – himself, obviously, Janice, Victoria, and Guterman – when a man had walked up to them, sat down at the table, and spoke those magic words.

“So, I hear you’re interested in revenge on Spider-Man.”

Well, they weren’t only interested in revenge against Spider-Man. He was the most pressing concern, obviously, but there was also the point of revenge against Quentin Beck, who (depending on what you believed) had either betrayed them to Spider-Man, acquired real powers, and immediately decided to turn on his old crew, or really was from another dimension and had used their familiarity to destroy everything the Crew had tried to achieve.

Either way, these days if you went through Spider-Man, you went through Mysterio. And so the Crew was all in when Toomes offered them a way out. A mysterious benefactor, one who even Toomes didn’t know the name of, offered them a way out of prison, a way to do something important in taking down Spider-Man and Mysterio.

The Crew had jumped at the chance, sketchy as it may have seemed. As reports came in from their contacts outside the prison walls that this Benefactor had managed to assemble what was left of their Crew and of Toomes’ old crew, the chance seemed to get less and less sketchy by the minute.

And then came the Day. E-Day. Escape Day. They had been told that it was coming, told that the Benefactor was sending someone in to get them out. So when the first new prisoner in several weeks showed up in the prison for holding up a convenience store with a weapon in line with the level of technology that Toomes had once peddled, they knew what was coming.

Each of the Crew packed what little they had accumulated over the course of their stay. New armor designs from Janice, new technology designs from William and Victoria, new storyline ideas from Guterman, and a new wingsuit design that William, Victoria, and Toomes had worked on together. And then they sat at their table and waited.

They didn’t have to wait long, but none of them were expecting the gruesome scene that followed. The new inmate, a petty thief identified as Wilson Grant, slowly walked over to the wall of the outdoor area, running his fingers along the wall. A guard called to him to stop, but at that point there was no preventing it.

Grant began glowing, purple cracks appearing on his skin as he screamed, a high pitched, keening sound that struck at William’s soul. For the first time, he wondered what exactly he had gotten himself into.

He didn’t have much time for doubts, however. As Grant vanished into an explosion of purple energy, he also blew a sizable hole in the wall. There was a mad rush for freedom, which Toomes and the Crew ran for. Somehow they managed to make it to the road nearby, where an unfamiliar car and an unfamiliar driver was waiting for them

None of the five of them relaxed until they were miles away, making their way towards their new safehouse to plot their next move.

-

It was the aftermath of this that Peter, Beck, and Kate watched on the television, shocked into silence as helicopter footage displayed the damage done, and the newsanchor narrated in the background.

“According to the authorities, there have been no less than a dozen casualties reported and three fatalities, including two guards and this man, a small-time thief identified as Wilson Grant. Grant was taken into custody two days ago after an attempted robbery at a corner store in New York City, which was stopped by Mysterio and Spider-Man. In addition to the dead and injured, nearly a dozen prisoners are reported as missing, including several with direct ties to Spider-Man himself. More information will be incoming as the situation develops.”

Peter gently ran his hand over his face, like he could somehow rub something out of his eye and he wouldn’t be seeing this. As the list of the names of escaped prisoners scrolled across the screen, he realized nearly half of them were people who he had directly been responsible for their stay behind bars. And that footage of that poor man’s death…

Well, poor man may be stretching it a little, he was a criminal who had tried to kill Peter, but no one deserves that. Peter felt like he was going to be sick.

“Alright, Hawkeye.” It was Beck who finally spoke, not taking his eyes from the screen. “I think it’s time you tell us everything you know.”

Kate nodded, leaning back in her chair and spinning slightly to face both Peter and Beck. “It all started in 2019, a little over a year after the Snap…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter Teaser: The World Turned Upside Down
> 
> It was a dark and stormy night. Maybe that was cliché, but it was true. Kate wondered offhandedly whether the weather patterns had actually changed after the Snap, or whether her spending more and more time outside the now empty family mansion meant that she noticed when the weather was miserable.
> 
> Either way, it was raining hard enough that she was beginning to have trouble keeping her grip on her bow even with her gloves, and she could tell from the way her quiver was tugging uncomfortably on her shoulder that it too was starting to fill with water. She tugged the coat that she had bought the night before a little tighter around her, trying to recapture what little warmth she could even as water soaked through the seams of the jacket to her clothing below.


	4. The World Turned Upside Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note on timeline: So, my experience with Kate Bishop is pretty much through the Matt Fraction Hawkeye run and a little bit of Young Avengers (which I haven’t read in years but is next on my list once I finish reading the original Civil War arc). Since we have no idea how old she is in the new Disney+ show, I’m putting her age as 21 by the time Peter and Beck meet her in 2024, meaning she is 15 at the time of the Snap, and 16 when she picks up the hero gig and meets Clint for the first time. I wanted her to be young enough to still fit in the younger dynamic with Peter, MJ, and Ned, who are all 17 ish, but not so young that her being a hero during the Blip would be unrealistic.
> 
> This entire chapter, other than the last bit, is flashbacks.

It was a dark and stormy night. Maybe that was cliché, but it was true. Kate wondered offhandedly whether the weather patterns had actually changed after the Snap, or whether her spending more and more time outside the now empty family mansion meant that she noticed when the weather was miserable.

Either way, it was raining hard enough that she was beginning to have trouble keeping her grip on her bow even with her gloves, and she could tell from the way her quiver was pulling uncomfortably off center on her shoulder that it too was starting to fill with water. She tugged the coat that she had bought the night before a little tighter around her, trying to recapture what little warmth she could even as water soaked through the seams of the jacket to her clothing below.

Not for the first time, she wondered what the hell she was doing, skulking along rooftops in New York City stopping petty thugs from taking advantage of the less fortunate after the Snap in the pouring rain rather than living comfortably as a normal seventeen-year-old at the boarding school she had attended for as long as she could remember.

A shout from a few streets away reminded her. She was doing this because she could, because she had the skills of an eccentric young woman who attended an elite boarding school that happened to have a decent archery and hand-to-hand combat instructor, and her family fortune at her back. She did this because if she didn’t, who would?

With a running start she managed to leap across the gap between the building she had been resting on and the next one over with a neat shoulder roll that would have otherwise been excellent for conserving her momentum without hurting herself instead only managing to soak herself further. From this roof, however, she could see the scene down below. A handful of thugs in dark coats had surrounded a young woman. Kate could see a pair of shopping bags in her hands, she had probably been on her way back from the grocery store a few blocks down doing some late night shopping when these assholes decided they wanted to mess with her.

Kate fixed her hood, wiping her face off with an equally soaked hand and really not managing to accomplish much but spread the water a little thinner on her skin. She pulled an arrow out of her quiver, aiming for the lead thug’s shoulder. Disable, scare off, don’t kill him. Too much attention comes out of bodies with arrows sticking out of them, Kate had learned that.

Breathe in, breathe out. Ready, aim… What the hell?

She almost let the arrow go out of shock as the lead thug suddenly sprouted an arrow from his eye socket, dropping like a sack of potatoes onto the wet ground. The other three thugs looked around in the same confusion that Kate was feeling as she frantically tried to figure out where the arrow had come from.

She noticed the dark figure jump down from a fire escape onto the group behind them a moment before the thugs did. Kate watched in astonishment as the figure, hooded and dressed in nearly all black neatly took out two of the thugs with a sword before rounding on the third, who had the presence of mind to pull a gun on the figure before he could get to him.

Kate assessed the situation in a blink of an eye. The woman they had been attacking was long gone, having taken the lead thug’s death as an opportunity to grab her groceries and book it. She could hear something being said between the hooded figure and the thug, although the roar of the rain was snatching most of it away before it reached the rooftop where Kate still stood.

Everything happened so fast. Before the hooded figure could move, the thug pulled the trigger. The hooded figure went down, and Kate acted without thinking.

The thug went down like his leader, an arrow sprouting from his eye. She had just killed a guy, but Kate wasn’t going to lose too much sleep over his demise. It took another fraction of a second to make sure that none of the thugs were going to be getting up anytime soon before she was parkouring her way down the fire escape of the building she had been perched on, glad it was only a handful of stories tall.

Somehow she managed to get down without slipping, falling, and cracking her head open, and rushed over to the hooded figure. Shakily, she pressed her fingers to his neck, relaxing slightly as she saw his eyes flicker open and a low groan escaped his mouth.

“Ok ok ok,” she muttered, half to herself and half to the hooded man. As far as she could tell the bullet had struck him in the shoulder. The body armor he was wearing had absorbed most of the blow, but she could tell it had still pierced through enough that the liquid on the ground around him wasn’t all rain. “I have a safehouse a block and a half away, can you walk?”

The hooded man didn’t respond in words, carefully staggering to his feet and trying to move away from Kate. “Hey, stop it. You’re hurt. Let me help you.” The man nearly fell again, and Kate realized that the bullet wound definitely wasn’t his only injury. The low light and the rain had hidden the extent of his injuries, but as he passed by a streetlight she could tell that he was limping badly, and definitely had several slash wounds on his arms and torso.

She rushed over to him, looping his uninjured arm over her shoulder and doing her best to support him. “I don’t know what kind of crazy stuff you’ve gotten yourself into, but I’m not going to let a fellow do-gooder wander out half-dead into the rain. Come on. It’s not far.”

It took the two of them almost forty-five minutes to stagger the block and a half to the safehouse that Kate had set up in this area of the city. By this point it was well past two in the morning, and while Kate wanted nothing more than to peel off her wet clothing, take a hot shower, put on her softest pair of pajamas, and climb into bed, it wouldn’t do to let the stranger bleed out overnight when she had put in all the work to get him to her apartment in the first place.

She helped him to one of the plastic kitchen chairs that she had bought, fumbling through her supplies to find a tarp she could throw over her ratty couch to prevent it from getting blood and water on it. The first aid kit was easy to find in the bathroom, considering how often she ended up using it, and she returned to the main area of the apartment to find the stranger passed out on the floor halfway between the chair she had left him in and the door, apparently having been attempting to leave the apartment.

“Come on, get up!” She shook him slightly, gratified to see his eyes open slightly. “Trust me man, you’re not going anywhere with the weather like that in the shape you’re in. Now come on, let me stop you from bleeding out, ok?”

The man gave a vague noise of assent, and allowed himself to be dragged to the couch and carefully laid down. “Ok,” Kate held up the first aid kit. “I know about the bullet wound in your shoulder and the cuts on your arms. Any other injuries you want to tell me about before I go poking and find them?”

The man gave a vague shake of his head, eyes fluttering closed again.

“Alright.” I can do this, I can do this. Kate carefully reached for the hood and the mask, talking as she went. “Obviously I’d prefer if you not die on me, so staying conscious would also be great. I’m going to take your headgear off now, check for head wounds.” She paused as the man’s eyes opened again and he slowly reached up and grabbed her hand, shaking his head.

One word made it through the mask, so quietly that Kate wasn’t even sure that she heard it. “No…”

“The mask is coming off, buddy. I don’t care who you are, but I really want to make sure you’re not hiding a skull fracture under there.”

The man rolled his eyes but relaxed his grip on Kate’s arm, allowing his own arm to fall to his side. She carefully pulled back the hood and off the mask, relaxing slightly when she didn’t see any obvious blood anywhere on his head or face. There was something vaguely familiar about him, but Kate couldn’t quite put her finger on it. “Ok, good, no skull fractures.” The man rolled his eyes as if to say I told you so, but didn’t respond, instead tracking her movements with a precision that she hadn’t realized he was capable of in his current state.

“Next order of business. Can you sit up? I need to get your jacket off.” The man made a vague noise of assent as Kate helped him sit up, peeling the soaked armor off of him and throwing it over the back of the couch. She let out a low whistle as she took in what lay underneath. This guy had clearly seen better days. She noted with some interest the beginnings of a sleeve tattoo on his left arm, what looked like a skull in a samurai helmet.

Of greater worry, however, was that the grey shirt he wore underneath the armor was nearly soaked with blood. She was relieved to realize that the bullet had not penetrated particularly far into his shoulder, the end still sticking out and easily removable, but the guy was covered in half-healed wounds and scars, all of which seemed fairly recent.

Whoever this guy was, he definitely wasn’t taking care of himself. Kate dealt with the newer wounds first, the bullet in particular, before moving on to the older ones. For most there wasn’t much she could do other than cleaning them and putting fresh bandages on them, but some she added stitches to, or took out stitches from wounds that were nearly healed. The man had barely moved during all of this, barely flinching even as she removed the bullet, just watching her with hawk like intent.

She ended the first aid montage by pulling out her stash of pain medication, dropping a pair of her strongest into the man’s hand and offering him a glass of water. “I don’t have many of them, but I have a feeling that you could use some relief right about now.”

He didn’t answer, wordlessly swallowing the pills and the water before trying to stand up again. It took almost no effort on Kate’s part to push him back down onto the couch. She didn’t want to have to play dirty, but she wanted answers. She produced a pair of handcuffs from underneath the couch, locking the man’s arm to a loop of the radiator next to the couch.

“This is for your good as much as it is for my curiosity,” she said as the man tentatively tugged the handcuffs, testing their strength, “I would appreciate it if you were still here in the morning. You answer a few questions I have and if you still want to run out on me then, fine, I’m not going to stop you. Until then,” she tossed a blanket over him, walking back across the room towards her bathroom, “sleep well.”

-

She had to admit that she was a little surprised to find the man not only still in her apartment, but still asleep when she wandered back into the living room at nine in the morning the next day. It wasn’t until she had toast in the toaster and eggs sizzling on the stove that the man jerked awake, the jingling of the handcuffs and a low grunt of pain alerting her to his state of consciousness.

“Scrambled or fried?”

The man looked around, slowly getting to a sitting position on the couch. “What?”

“Eggs.” Kate gestured to the pan on the stove, “Scrambled or fried? I have some bacon I’m going to make as well, if that makes a difference. Tuesdays are usually my grocery day, so I’m running a little low on options.”

The man tugged again on the handcuff halfheartedly, before responding. “Scrambled’s fine.”

“Awesome.” Kate poured the rest of the eggs into the pan, humming to herself as they cooked. “If I let you out of the handcuffs, are you going to make a run for it?”

The man’s eyes slid to the door before back to her, and he slowly shook his head.

“Awesome,” Kate said again, turning down the stove as she fished in her pocket for the key. “The bathroom is over there. I don’t know if you want to take a shower with all of,” she made a vague gesture to the various dressings across the man’s body, “but I have a spare toothbrush and toothpaste, and I dug out one of my-” she broke off there, not caring if the man noticed, “-an old shirt or two that I thought might fit you. The window opens on a three story drop so don’t do anything stupid, ok?”

He nodded, carefully standing after she removed the handcuff and made his way to the bathroom. Kate listened intently as she heard the water running, only relaxing ten minutes later as the man limped back out of the room. He was wearing the shirt she had dug out of her stash, a ratty old tourist-trap t-shirt from when she had visited Niagara Falls a few years ago with her family. Kate took in his features as he limped around to the kitchen table, sitting down heavily in one of the chairs. Messy brown hair that looked like it hadn’t been cut in a while, still damp from when he had stuck his head under the faucet to clean away the grime from last night. Average looking features, blue eyes that carefully tracked every movement that Kate made as she finished building the two plates of breakfast food.

She grabbed a pair of forks from what passed for a silverware drawer, placing the plate, cutlery, and a glass of orange juice in front of the man, mirroring the setup for herself. Without looking at him, she carefully built a bite for herself saying, “So, mystery man, you got a name?” before she ate it, looking back up at him.

“Why do you care?” The guy’s response was quiet, careful as he began to eat as well.

“Well, you know,” Kate gestured with the fork as she thought, “If someone owes me their life I’d like to know who they are.”

That got his attention, blue eyes snapping up to meet Kate’s own. “I would have been fine.”

“Alright, if you don’t owe me your life I feel like you owe me your name, at least.” Kate stared at him until he finally looked away, shaking his head.

“Clint. It’s… It’s just Clint.”

“Alright, Clint.” Kate stuck out her hand to him over the table. “I’m Kate. Kate Bishop. I haven’t seen you around. Why were you going after those thugs?”

Clint carefully took the offered hand, shaking it slowly. “I haven’t been in town for a while. Used to spend a lot of time here, though. Been tracking those ‘thugs,’ as you put it. They’ve hurt a lot of people that didn’t deserve to be hurt. The Snap missed a lot of people it should have taken. I’m just rectifying its mistake.”

“Hold on.” Kate squinted at Clint. It was all coming back, now. The bow and arrow. The name. The sword was new but maybe it just wasn’t part of his public persona. “You’re Clint Barton. You’re _Hawkeye_.”

“That’s not my name anymore.” Clint shook his head, stabbing into the eggs with more force than was necessary. “Hawkeye’s a hero. What kind of hero can’t save his family?”

“Well, the way I understand it the Snap was kind of random, you couldn’t have…” Kate trailed off when she saw the look in Clint’s eyes, the hurt and anger that simmered just under the surface. “Right, yeah, definitely. Should’ve saved them. Absolutely. Hey if you don’t want the name anymore can I have it?”

“What?” Clint’s eyebrows drew together, looking at Kate in absolute confusion.

“Well, I mean…” Gesturing to her own bow and quiver leaning against the wall next to Clint’s, Kate shrugged, “Obviously I don’t want to steal your schtick, but I’ve been out there helping people in absolutely excellent Hawkeye form, I feel like if you abandon the title someone else can take it.”

Kate got the impression that Clint was staring through her, sizing her up. “How old are you?”

“Old enough.”

“Nuh-uh.” Clint shook his head, tearing into his toast. “How old are you.”

“Sixteen.”

He closed his eyes. Kate watched as he mouthed counting down from ten. “Sixteen, huh. And you want to be a vigilante?”

“And what else am I supposed to do?” Kate gestured at herself, her gear, and Clint in quick succession. “People out there are getting hurt by people like the assholes last night. The world may have gone to shit but people like me, people like you can help make the world a slightly better place.”

“By taking the worst people out of it?” Clint met her eyes again, raising an eyebrow. Somehow, Kate had the feeling that this was a test, that her answer would determine the tenor of their relationship going forward.

“Sometimes, yeah,” she replied. “Look, my family is dead and gone and I have their fortune now. I could have just kept going, stayed at school, pretending that the world isn’t collapsing around me. But I realized, nothing is going to bring them back. Nothing is going to make the world even approach normal again. But if I go out there and use the talents that I’ve cultivated for fun because I had that opportunity, maybe I can help others, make sure what remains of families stay together instead of being torn apart by pointless violence.”

Something shifted in Clint’s expression. Kate hoped that he was taking in what she was saying, really listening to her. Then he nodded. “Alright, Hawkeye. You’ve convinced me that if nothing else, you’re set on the hero gig. If I let you tag along with me, maybe I can at least watch your six, and you’ll watch mine.” There was something else there, Kate thought, that when he looked at her for a moment he was looking at someone else.

“Ok!” Kate finished the last of her breakfast, getting up and placing the dishes in the sink. That would be a problem for future her. “Where do we start?”

Clint gestured to their gear, then his armor. Kate realized now that it was definitely the old Hawkeye armor she had seen on the television from during the whole Sokovia debacle. It had also definitely seen better days. “I need new armor. You need armor. Where we’re going, a ten-dollar windbreaker isn’t going to cut it. You said you had a family fortune at your back?”

Kate nodded, seeing where this was going.

“We’re going to need it.”

-

_California, June 2020_

They were so damn close to getting away without tripping any of the alarms. It had been a clean insertion, sneaking into the headquarters of a human trafficking ring without raising any alerts as they snuck along the vents of a massive warehouse being used to hold hundreds of people officially reported missing or dead after the Snap.

Kate was excited. If this went off as expected, they’d save hundred of people from being sold into horrible new lives. She was worried about Clint, though. He had never been particularly talkative the entire time she had known him, even during the tiny celebrations they would throw after particularly successful operations where she would indulge in fancy bottles of wine from wherever they found themselves that month, and Clint would down as much beer as he could before Kate would get worried.

But recently, he’d seemed withdrawn, throwing himself into planning their operations and not sleeping for days at a time. He’d picked a new codename, which was kind of cool in a weird kind of way (Kate was still getting used to being called Hawkeye by, well, Hawkeye). He’d finally gotten a haircut, another one of those kind-of-good-but-also-weird things, considering he was probably old enough to be her dad, but was sporting a near-mohawk that wouldn’t have been out of place on some of the kids that Kate had known at school.

And then there was the foolhardy recklessness that he was displaying now as instead of using the weapon he was known for, the idiot dropped down from the vent shaft onto a card table where half a dozen goons had been in the middle of a poker game. Kate sighed, taking out the pair of guards at the door that Clint hadn’t clocked as he near effortlessly dispatched the half dozen at the table.

She dropped down from the vent, lightly punching Clint in the arm. “Whatever happened to getting to the main room and going from there in the vents?”

Clint didn’t even look at her, wiping his sword off on one of the dead guard’s uniform before he slid it back into its sheath. “I saw an opportunity. I took it. You could have stayed in the vents.” He then strode purposefully over to the door to the room, walking through without so much as a backwards glance.

“You could have stayed in the vents!” Kate muttered mockingly under her breath, pulling her arrows out of the corpses of the guards and following Clint into the belly of the beast.

-

_Russia, December 2020_

Kate leaned back in her chair in the tiny apartment they had rented while they planned their next hit on a group of engineers distributing weapons based on stolen technology from unguarded Stark Industries factories left abandoned in the wake of the Snap. Clint was hunched over the blueprints to the warehouse the group was using to build their weapons, desperately trying to stay awake, but Kate could tell he was failing.

“Hey, Hawkguy, maybe give it a rest?” Kate had never seen Clint snap awake so quickly as he turned to face her, something unreadable in his expression. “There’s not going to be anyone in the warehouse for the next week or so. Even bad guys like to give it a rest around Christmas.”

“Bah humbug.” Clint tried to keep a serious expression on his face, but Kate could see a small smile forming on his face. She carefully got up from her chair, pouring a glass of eggnog from a carton in the fridge and setting it down in front of him.

“Besides, it’s snowing out. Take some time and enjoy this holiday miracle.”

“It’s Russia in the winter. It’s been snowing since we got here a week ago.” Clint tried to sound grumpy, but took a sip of the eggnog anyway.

“It’s a holiday miracle if I say it is.” Kate pulled her phone from her pocket, finally settling on a playlist of cheesy Christmas classics.

Even Clint found it impossible to stop a small smile from forming as Gene Autry began singing the story of Frosty the Snowman.

Things might be looking up after all.

-

_Australia, March 2021_

“That was fun. I think we should go after the Cartels in Mexico next.”

“Clint, don’t be ridiculous, eat your dinner and chill until your leg stops being broken.”

-

_Alaska, August 2021_

“Ok, what about the Yakuza?”

“Clint, shut up. We’re so close to dealing with the last of these weapons smugglers. Behind you!”

-

_New York City, November 2021_

“I’m going to Mexico.”

“Clint, there is a hole in your arm from a laser gun. Maybe we should start slow?”

“Ok, I’m going to Mexico once there isn’t a hole in my arm.”

“That’s not slow.”

-

_Newark Airport, New Jersey, February 2022_

“And you’re sure I can’t convince you to come with me?”

“There’s still weapons smugglers out there. They’re doing more harm than some Cartel guys in hiding in Mexico.”

“I’m gonna miss you, Hawkeye.”

“Don’t get yourself killed out there, Hawkguy.”

“You know that’s not my name. And that one never was my name, you just like calling me that to annoy me.”

“I’m not calling you Ronin. It’s a stupid name. Even if the tattoo you got to go with it is sick as hell.”

-

_New York City, August 2024_

“And that was the last time I saw him,” Kate finished her story, enjoying the rapt attention that Peter and Beck were giving her. “Honestly, until I saw the footage from the Battle at the Compound start hitting the news, I kind of assumed he was dead. No contact from him of any kind. He could have, I don’t know, sent me an email or a text or something to let me know that he wasn’t dead.”

“But it’s not the last time you heard from him?” That was the important point, the point that Beck wanted to drive home. Her story sounded plausible enough, but Beck had only a vague idea of what had happened during the Blip. Peter would know more, but since he had also been dusted he had no experience with the way the world had been during those five years.

“No.” Kate shook her head, pulling her email up on the computer screen. “He sent me this a few weeks ago. I was out in Texas, trying to track down a missing shipment of Tesseract batteries that was being moved from a SHIELD base to a more secure holding facility. Apparently he had heard that the group I had been chasing since we parted ways was planning a hit on a storage facility here, in New York City, and that I should look you two up while I was here.”

It really all did seem reasonable. And considering what they were up against – a group that used one of their own as a living bomb to release dangerous (and more importantly, clever) criminals back into the world wasn’t one to be trifled with – having someone who knew how they worked and what their tactics were could be invaluable in a fight.

To be fair, even having another set of eyes watching their backs would be invaluable if this group was as dangerous as Peter suspected they might be.

“Alright, let’s say we believe you.” Peter crossed his arms across his chest, trying to make himself seem bigger than he was. “What do you want from us?”

Kate seemed slightly taken aback by that. “I genuinely want to help. Sure, the whole audition thing was probably an unnecessary bit of theater, but I’m sure you want to take down these weapons smugglers as much as I do. Especially because I think they’re building up to something. Usually the rate of weapons I see out on the streets corresponds to what they steal. Recently, though,” she gestured to part of the corkboard where Peter and Beck could see several printed graphs, “They’ve been stealing very specific pieces of technology. Energy cores, both of Chitauri and Tesseract origin. But not arc reactors. No other technology that they would normally go for. I think they’re building something that needs significantly more power than they have in the past, and I don’t think they need much more. If you decide to not work with me that’s fine, I’ll keep working the case, but I think we’ll work better together.”

That was very reasonable. Peter nodded. “Alright. If that was your audition, consider the next few days your interview. We’ll see how this goes. Hopefully at the end of it, you’ll have a job as a Protector, and we’ll have taken down a very dangerous group of people. Welcome aboard, Hawkeye.”

Peter stuck out his hand, and Kate shook it enthusiastically.

Maybe this would all work out after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter Teaser: What Comes Next?
> 
> Thing seemed like they might actually be working out, for once. As far as Peter could tell, Kate was genuine. Clint not telling people useful information because he wanted to see how they would react was certainly in line with his behavior in the past (that night at the cabin was still a sore spot between Beck and Clint), and so far, Kate-as-Hawkeye had been nothing but helpful. It was always possible, of course, that she was lying out of her ass, and without Matt there to listen to her story, they couldn’t know for sure, but Peter felt good about trusting her for the moment.
> 
> “Alright, Hawkeye. What next?”


	5. What Comes Next?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AKA Warehouses are cursed and Peter should never step foot in them if he knew what was good for him
> 
> Also! Just a note, after rewatching FFH I realised that there's a more substantial time gap between the end of the movie and the post credits scene than I had thought. With that in mind, the opening paragraphs and a few other lines in The Other Quentin Beck have been edited. Nothing substantial or plot changing, just a few things to keep it consistent.

Thing seemed like they might actually be working out, for once. As far as Peter could tell, Kate was genuine. Clint not telling people useful information because he wanted to see how they would react was certainly in line with his behavior in the past (that night at the cabin was still a sore spot between Beck and Clint), and so far, Kate-as-Hawkeye had been nothing but helpful. It was always possible, of course, that she was lying out of her ass, and without Matt there to listen to her story, they couldn’t know for sure, but Peter felt good about trusting her for the moment.

“Alright, Hawkeye. What next?”

Kate spun back to her computer screens, bringing up a map of the city. “I’ve tracked our group of weapons salesmen to an old shipping warehouse along the waterfront in Tribeca. Did some digging, turns out the place use to be a Stark Industries warehouse, and before that, a SHIELD base. It was sold just before the Blip, but the records of who it was sold to are either missing or hidden. I don’t know who owns it now. Either way,” she pulled up a loop of security footage from a camera across the street, gesturing to a group of people who got out of a car in front of the warehouse before walking in. “This was ten minutes ago. See anyone familiar?”

The security footage was grainy and unclear, the black-and-white nature of the film making it even more difficult to discern fine features, but it was enough. Peter recognized all but one of the group as Toomes and the major players of the other Beck’s crew, and gestured to the driver. “Who’s he?”

Kate shook her head. “No idea. I’ve seen him in the area a few times, but I haven’t managed to get a good enough image of him to run facial recognition. Either way, though, I’m pretty sure that’s our place.”

“What are we waiting for, then?” Peter reactivated his suit, leaving the helmet off for a moment longer. “Let’s go get those bastards.”

“Not so fast.” Beck finally spoke, watching the security footage with a careful eye. “Miss Bishop, please keep monitoring the warehouse, but I’d feel more comfortable if we had some backup. If you have, as you say, been monitoring this group since the middle of the Blip, allowing themselves to be caught out now seems an odd failure in their tenacity that they previously displayed.”

“Oh! I thought so too, but I think I have an answer.” Kate gave Beck a wink, pulling up what seemed to be an autopsy report. “Meet Alexander Henderson. He was my white whale, the mastermind behind their operation for as long as I was chasing them. Then, two weeks ago, drunk driver.” She mimed two cars hitting each other, complete with explosion noises. “Dead on arrival. And yes, I know it seems convenient, but I looked into it. Other driver was a completely normal civilian with a history of alcoholism. Sometimes the universe just gives you what you need.”

Beck wasn’t convinced, but Kate continued, “After that, their strategies changed significantly. I think that they’re under new management, and they’re still trying to figure it out. We have a small window of opportunity where they’re off balance with a bunch of newcomers, and we need to take advantage of that to strike while we have a chance.”

That was fair. Beck found himself finally nodding along to her plan. “Alright. But we’re going to wait until Daredevil is done at his day job.”

-

The clock struck five. Matt was used to Team Parker portalling into the office as soon as his business hours were technically over, but it never ceased to amaze him that none of them had apparently ever heard of calling ahead.

And that was interesting. A newcomer. Matt could hear her excited heartbeat, the jostling of arrows in a quiver. “I guess you found your Hawkeye?”

“They did,” the woman confirmed, stretching a hand out to Matt. “Kate Bishop. You’re Daredevil?”

“Matt Murdock.” Matt took to hand, giving Peter and Beck a Face as he did. “And yes. Have you two ever heard of the concept of a secret identity? Or calling ahead?”

Even blind, Matt could tell when Beck gave one of his patented shrugs. “Where’s the fun in that? Need your help to take out a weapons dealer. Let’s go.”

Even as Beck began opening a portal into Matt’s apartment, Matt wasn’t moving. “I’m going to need a few more details than that.”

“Warehouse. Weapons dealers. Guys who used to work for the other Beck and the Vulture are there. Need backup. Coming or not?”

Ok, that was fair enough. Matt left his suitjacket on the back of his chair, carefully standing. “Oh, abandoned warehouse, you say?” He walked through the portal to his apartment, giving the rest of the team a sarcastic salute. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

-

The team perched on top of a building across the street from the warehouse, watching the door. Kate had patched her surveillance equipment into the Mission Control setup back at the apartment, and both MJ and Ned were waiting with bated breath to see what would happen next.

According to the footage, no one had come in or out of the warehouse since the escaped prisoners and their unknown accomplice had gone in several hours before. Peter, however, was on edge. Something about the building was setting off his Spidey-Sense like nothing else he had ever encountered, and not just in the “there’s a bunch of evil weapons dealers in there.” It wasn’t even, “several people who had tried very hard to have him killed are in there.” Peter couldn’t put his finger on what exactly was wrong.

“What’s going on in there, Matt?” Peter looked over at him, now in his full Daredevil armor as the man cocked his head to the side, listening.

“I’m hearing six heartbeats. Two of them are consistently moving in that building, the rest seem to be sitting and talking about the weather. And there’s something else, a sort of low humming noise. It’s not like anything I’ve ever heard before.” Matt frowned. There was something else off about the whole thing, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“Only six?” That was it, Kate had gotten it. If this was their base of operations, why would he only hear six people inside?

Peter had a plausible explanation. “Maybe there’s a sublevel? If I were smart, I’d have some activity on the main level, guards to scare off anyone just poking around, and then keep everything else underground and shielded so no one could easily figure out what was going on.” He leaned over the top of the roof, shielding his eyes with his hand from the late afternoon sun and stared at the warehouse. “Even if this is a trap, we’re not going to learn anything new by standing here and watching. I say we go in and see what’s up.”

-

Given no real better course of action, the four heroes decided that the direct approach was best. They carefully snuck in the front door (not locked, not immediately guarded, another vote for “something fishy is going on here”). Peter’s extra sense was going crazy as he desperately tried to figure out what was wrong with the picture. He could hear it now too, the low humming that Matt had mentioned when they were outside.

Something about it seemed familiar, like he had heard it before, and like a snippet of a song caught in his head it was going to drive him crazy until he figured out what it was.

The four of them advanced into the main room of the warehouse, clustered together like the main characters on a cinematic poster for some summer blockbuster about superheroes. Kate stayed in back, her bow half drawn, hood up. Matt and Peter were in front, Peter staying low to the ground with his mask on and webshooters ready, Matt absentmindedly tossing his baton end over end. Beck was the most noticeable of the four, light up with magic like a Christmas tree as he floated a few inches above the ground, helmet up.

Somehow, though, the six people in the warehouse didn’t seem to notice them. Peter recognized Toomes sitting at the card table in the center of the room, playing poker with three others that he only recognized through their arrest files as Janice, Victoria, and Guterman. William, however, stood at the far end of the room, conversing with the mystery man.

Confused, Peter walked up to the poker table, carefully reaching out a hand to grab Toomes’ shoulder.

His hand passed right through in a spark of blue pixelated dust, and Peter sprung back. It was a trap. Shit, shit, it was a trap. He knew he had heard that humming before not so long ago.

“Peter?” He looked back at Beck, who had deactivated his helmet and was looking at him in concern. “What’s going on?”

The images of the six people faded from view as Peter carefully moved backwards to stand back near the group, heart racing. This was obviously a trap, but what was the end game? Matt and Peter alone would be able to take out the six drones he could now pick out by ear, there had to be something else.

“Yes, Peter. Tell them what’s going on.” Peter felt his stomach drop at that voice as the hissing of mist underscored the words. The group slowly turned to see the projected form of Mysterio, his helmet down to allow him to meet eyes with each of the team, his voice absolutely dripping with malice.

Beck swallowed nervously, disabling his helmet as well and placing a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “I’m real. Just remember that. I’m the real one, I’m on your side.” Peter looked up at him, somewhat relieved to see the familiar gold of magic lighting up his eyes rather than the plain, icy blue of the illusion.

“Are you sure about that? Real you may be, but you have so many secrets. Who’s to say whose side you’re really on?” The illusion moved forward, holographic fingers ghosting over Beck’s face before turning away. “But I digress. If this form unnerves you, perhaps you would prefer this one?”

The mist dissipated as the hologram shifted, replaced by Toomes as Peter had last seen him without his exo-suit, a serious expression on his face. “Hiya, Pete. Do you know how much pain you’ve caused people? Everything I did, I did for my family. Everything! I spared your identity because you spared my life, but now that my family’s gone, I owe you nothing.”

“What?” Peter was genuinely confused now, looking back at the rest of the group of heroes. “Any of you guys know what he’s talking about?”

The illusion continued, “They were on a plane coming to visit me when the ‘heroes’ of this world failed to stop a madman from ruining the world. I don’t blame you, it’s not your fault, but I held back from killing you for their sake. Now that they’re gone…”

Matt had had enough, throwing one of his batons with perfect accuracy at the nearest drone he could sense, gratified somewhat as he heard it crash to the floor. The illusion flickered and died, only to reappear a few feet away, projected by a different drone.

“You’re welcome to keep doing that, but I think you’ll want to hear what my new benefactor has to say. Good bye, Peter. I hope for your sake we don’t meet face to face again.”

There was a long pause. Matt retrieved his baton from where he had thrown it, keeping a metaphorical eye on the next closest drone to them. He wasn’t willing to take it out quite yet, not if the villain of the story wasn’t done monologuing.

The group didn’t have to wait long. Standing across from them at the other end of the warehouse stood the sixth man, the mystery figure. Peter silently had EDITH start on facial recognition as the image regarded them.

The man was of average height, average build. Dark brown hair was neatly cut short in a fashion that along with the way he stood and the way that he dressed suggested a military background, although his image showed no visible weapons.

“Are you planning on introducing yourself?” Kate had drawn her bow, allowing it to point directly at the image. She knew it wasn’t going to do much against a hologram, but it made her feel better.

“I’ve put far too much effort into maintaining my secrecy to simply give my name to anyone who asks.” His voice was soft, vaguely accented. Peter wracked his brain trying to place it. German, maybe? He wasn’t sure. “But you may call me the Benefactor.”

“Alright, Benny. Can I call you Benny?” Peter’s mouth was going a mile a minute as he tried to figure out exactly what was going on. Without waiting for confirmation one way or another he continued, “Alright, you got us here. What do you want?”

“This is a courtesy, nothing more.” The man was cool and collected, perfectly calm. Of course, he didn’t exactly have much reason to be nervous, given he wasn’t actually anywhere near the team. “I’m afraid that I work with a group of rather vengeance filled people, and your life is about to get significantly worse. I wanted to tell you to enjoy what time you had.”

Matt had had enough, taking out another one of the drones. “Are you saying that you’re going to kill us here and now with these flimsy pieces of shit? I’m not exactly worried.”

“Oh, no, of course not. After Mister Parker’s impressive display on the bridge, I suspect I would need a small army of the things to put him down, not to mention the rest of your little crew.” The man gave a pleasant smile, which really got on Beck’s nerves.

“Alright. If the drones aren’t here to take us out, why are they here?” Beck continued drawing in magic to his core, ready to release it to whatever threat decided to surface.

“Isn’t having this lovely chat enough reason?”

“No. It’s not.”

The Benefactor sighed. “The drones are simply a distraction, I’m afraid. Mister Guterman really is an excellent student of psychology – if you thought you knew what the threat was, you wouldn’t look deeper to see the real one.” He looked around at the warehouse, sighing again, “This really was a wonderful base, but I suppose if you want to make an omelet you have to crack a few eggs. Besides, what’s the old saying? If you take out one base two more will take its place?”

No. Peter recognized the gist of that saying from history class. No no no this couldn’t be happening, he wasn’t ready to take on a threat like that.

The Benefactor was still speaking. “Good luck, Mister Parker. It really is a shame that you have to die.”

The image disappeared an instant before the explosion went off.

-

Everything happened so fast. One minute Peter was standing, waiting for the other shoe to drop, the next he was blasted off his feet and sent sprawling, frantically curing into a ball as chunks of rubble rained around him. He wasn’t sure if the reason he wasn’t able to pull in a full breath was the dust in the air, the pressure of the rocks settling on his back, or the panic that the combination of Toomes and a falling building sent coursing through his body.

Matt wasn’t faring much better. He was no stranger to having buildings dropped on him, but in his defense the last time it had happened he had been laid out in a church recovering for weeks. By sheer luck he had managed to dive underneath the card table in the center of the room (which surprisingly was real? Go figure, he guessed), using it as a shield from the worst of the rubble. Even with the makeshift shelter, though, he could tell his leg was broken and his ears were ringing from the blast.

Kate and Beck faired the best out of the group. Without time to make a portal out, Beck had grabbed the person closes to him and released the magic he had been storing into the strongest shield he had ever made. Unfortunately, that meant that the two of them were trapped beneath a pile of rubble that would instantly crush them if the shield failed, trapped like a pair of hamsters in a glowing golden ball.

“Who’s alive?” Peter managed to shift his arm enough to activate his comms, freezing as the rubble made scary shifting noises around him.

Matt groaned, carefully activating his own comms. “I’m alive. Leg’s broken. Can’t move.”

“Beck and I are stuck under a large pile.” Kate spoke for the two of them, marveling at the shield surrounding her and Beck. “He’s got a shield up, but I don’t know how long it’s gonna last.

To be fair, Beck wasn’t sure of that either. Sustained shields weren’t something that was usually called on in his line of work – usually you wanted a quick shield to deflect an attack and then return to offense, rather than holding out against an attack long term. The magic here may flow more plentifully, but he could only channel one spell for so long.

Peter tried shifting under his pile again, wincing as several smaller pieces of rubble came loose and made their presence known. “Anyone got a plan?”

That got a long few moments of silence, only interrupted by the sounds of more rubble shifting and grinding. Finally, Beck spoke up. His voice was strained, forcing out his thoughts word by word.

“Could… portal Kate. Drop shield. Go… get help.” Kate watched nervously as the shield moved back a few inches, the weight starting to take its toll on Beck.

“Whoah, wait, hold on.” She looked at the shield, then to Beck, then back to the shield. “If you drop the shield, you’re definitely going to die.”

He looked down, meeting her eyes for a fraction of a second before returning his gaze to the shield. She gasped when she realized the gold had spread from just his irises (which was damn cool even if she couldn’t decide if it reminded her more of Merlin or of Twilight. Merlin, definitely Merlin. She was pretty sure Beck wasn’t a vampire) to covering his entire eye in a sheen of gold.

“Both… die anyway,” Beck managed to grit out, the shield slipping another few inches, forcing him to go from a standing to a kneeling position to hold his ground. “Get… help. Maybe… survive this.”

“Don’t be a hero, Beck,” Matt muttered over the comms, unable to hide a hiss of pain as he shifted positions slightly, his broken leg reminding him just how screwed he was. “I’m sure there’s another way out of this.”

“I’m… all… ears.”

Peter huffed out a laugh, still trying to shift his position slightly. He could see a little bit of light coming through the rocks, which meant he might not be buried too deeply. His left webshooter was too badly damaged to work, but he thought if he sprayed web netting on the rocks around him he might be able to push his way out without it shifting too much.

By this time Beck had dropped to both knees, desperately trying to keep the shield up. “Now… or never… Miss Bishop.”

Kate’s eye flicked between the man and the shield again. If he died saving her life, she knew she would carry that guilt with her for the rest of her life, but if she stayed here and died and let Peter and Matt die because she didn’t go for help, that would be worse. She closed her eyes, whispering an apology to Peter that didn’t go over the comms, and gave Beck a nod. He closed his eyes, taking a long breath before meeting hers again in a perfectly steady gaze. “Everything is gonna be ok.”

In the blink of an eye, it was like the floor had given out beneath her. Kate found herself falling, a few pieces of rubble falling with her, into an unfamiliar apartment as two teenagers stared at her in shock. She took a second to compose herself, coughing roughly to remove the dust from her airways before frantically speaking, “Collapsed building. Call for help. Anyone. Just…” She coughed again, Ned and MJ still not having moved from where they stood, staring at her in shock. “Spider-Man and Mysterio and Daredevil are trapped, do something!”

That, at least, seemed to break them out of their fog. There were people they could call, help they could request. Maybe they’d be able to still come out of this ok.

Kate, for all her skills and all her combat experience, had never felt so helpless.

-

It was obvious when Beck had given up on the shield. Both Peter and Matt could feel the crash as the rubble fell the last few feet that the shield had prevented it from falling.

Peter screamed. It was an involuntary, animalistic sound that ripped out of him. Beck was almost certainly dead. He could feel the weight of the rubble that had settled through the vibrations it had caused, and redoubled his efforts to get out, desperately trying to get to where his friend had been buried. He could tell Matt was doing the same, trying despite his broken leg to dig himself out from under the rubble.

Fifteen minutes and half his canister of web fluid later, Peter had managed to dig himself out from the rubble he was buried under, desperation giving him unexpected strength. “EDITH. Find Beck.”

The overlay lit up in his mask’s screen, pinpointing an unexpectedly bright signature from the rubble in the center of the room. That… that didn’t make any sense. On the one hand, it was encouraging. If Beck were dead, his body would have started cooling even after only fifteen minutes. On the other hand, it couldn’t be healthy for him to register as running a fever of nearly a hundred- and four-degrees Fahrenheit.

As Peter considered the best way to get to Beck, a sudden noise from behind him activating every fight instinct in his body.

“Peace, young Spider. Your friends called me.” Doctor Strange, Sorcerer Supreme, had arrived on the scene. With a wave of his hand, the thin layer of rubble slowly but surely crushing Matt lifted itself and was carefully piled away from him, leaving him to carefully sit up and cough roughly, blood dribbling out of the corner of his mouth.

Another portal, thrown to the side by Strange almost as an afterthought, opened into a familiar sight for Peter. The medbay in Shuri’s lab was a welcome sight to Peter as he watched a pair of Wakandan doctors carefully lift Matt onto a stretcher and take him through the portal. The doctors weren’t the only Wakandans to come through the portal, however, as Shuri came running through, stopping herself at the last minute from tackling Peter with a hug.

“Thank Bast you’re alive. When MJ texted me I feared the worst.” She trailed off as Peter wrapped his arms around her, mask now off, tears streaming down his face. “Hey, hey. Science can fix a lot of things. Everyone is going to be ok.”

“Maybe not.” The words were murmured so quietly that Peter wasn’t even sure if he had heard them, looking over to see where Strange had removed the rubble from around Beck’s body.

Even with no medical training Peter could see that the man was in bad shape. He must have gotten his helmet up at the last minute, given that it was mostly smashed around his head, shards of glass glittering in his hair like the world’s most deadly glitter. He was sprawled out on his back, the chestpiece of his armor severely dented but somehow still intact, but his left arm and right leg were bent at such unnatural angles that it was clear they were broken. A slowly spreading pool of blood underneath him spoke to other injuries not immediately visible, as did the small trickle leaking out the corner of his mouth.

Then there was the issue of the glow. His eyes were open to the sky, sightlessly staring solid gold up into the sky, and Peter could just see the flickering golden aura covering every inch of his body.

He wasn’t moving. There were no minor movements that would suggest shallow breathing. Peter moved forwards, almost in a trance, reaching down to check for a pulse before his arm was grabbed, gently but firmly, by Strange.

“Don’t.” He shook his head slightly, not looking away from Beck. “His condition is extremely fragile right now.”

“He’s… he’s not dead?” Peter swallowed a sob, moving back towards Shuri.

“Not yet.” Strange knelt next to Beck, fingers weaving a complex pattern almost too fast for Peter to follow. “He was channeling such immense magical energy at the moment the building collapsed that he managed to open a conduit of sorts. Magic is sustaining him at the moment, even though his body should have given up.” Another set of gestures, a muttered curse under his breath. “If we move him to try to heal him, we risk disrupting the flow of magic through him that’s keeping him alive, but this state of grace won’t last forever.”

Strange carefully stood, brushing the dust off of his clothing as he did. “How quickly can your doctors transfer a body?”

Shuri looked to the two doctors that had returned at this point with a second stretcher, briefly conversing before one of them answered, “A few minutes if you count preparation time, a few seconds if you’re only speaking of the transfer itself.”

“That’ll have to be quickly enough.” Strange nodded curtly, settling himself on a pile of rubble and beginning to weave another spell. “I will sustain the conduit during the transfer. If it fails afterwards, there is nothing I can do, but this is our best chance. Give me a countdown when you are prepared.”

Peter held his breath as the transfer took place, unable to breathe as the golden aura surrounding Beck flickered and nearly died as Strange took over the channel. There was a long, horrible moment as once the man was on the stretcher and Strange let go of the magic the golden aura didn’t return, golden sheen on Beck’s eyes returning to icy blue.

Then he breathed in, and Peter did too, clutching Shuri in a hug that threatened to break bones before he carefully let go. Beck’s eyes fluttered closed as he gave in to blessed unconsciousness.

Strange held Peter back from following them through the portal. “I want to warn you.”

“About what? He’s fine?” Peter gestured at the portal, a smile finally starting to spread onto his face. “He’s fine, right? He’s fine.”

“Maybe.” Strange watched as the doctors and the stretcher carrying Beck moved out of sight of the portal opening. “Maybe not. Change is in the wind, I fear. For once I’m not sure what it carries.”

“Ok, that’s super cryptic. Do you maybe have that for me without sounding like a character from a fantasy novel?”

Strange shook his head. “All I mean to say is that magic always comes with a price. To do what Quentin did, to channel that kind of power in that manner… It will have an effect. The person who wakes may not be the same person who fell beneath the rubble. Good luck, Peter.”

Peter didn’t have an answer for that as Strange took to the sky, cloak carrying him back to the Sanctum without closing the portal to Wakanda. “He’s gonna be ok, right?”

Shuri slung her arm over Peter’s shoulder, guiding him through the portal as it slowly closed behind him. “Beck will be fine. Doctor Strange just likes being dramatic.”

Somehow Peter wasn’t so sure. He was sure of one thing, though. Change was in the wind. He’d picked up a new ally, and made some new and very personal enemies.

But spiders are patient. Spiders are clever. It was time to make a new plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end! There will be another oneshot bridging the gap between this story and the next long form one (Rise of the Black Dahlia).
> 
> Fair warning, Rise is going to be significantly darker than the other stories that have been posted as part of this series. So brace yourselves, I guess?


End file.
